


More Than All the Jewels of the Realm

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: After learning of a prophecy that Killian Jones will be his undoing, the Dark One traps him in a book...a book that Emma Swan happens to find while doing inventory at the Storybrooke library hundreds of years later. After freeing him from his prison, can Emma find a way to send him back home?  Does she even want to? And can Killian and Emma stop the Dark One before he sets his newest scheme into motion?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 45
Kudos: 85
Collections: Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020





	1. Prologue

_Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020! Huge thank you to my beta, @therealstartraveller776, to @searchingwardrobes for the wonderful story art and for being a second beta, to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_Once upon a time, long ago and far away...._

“The future is uncertain. I cannot give you an answer.”

Rumplestiltskin felt his rage explode. Gripping the hilt of his dagger more firmly, he brought it up to eye level and focused his malevolent energy on the strange woman standing before him. With a strangled cry, she clutched at her throat, pulling helplessly at the air, at the invisible, immovable force that was crushing the life from her.

“Not good enough, Dearie,” he growled. “I asked you a question and you’ll give me an answer. Will I achieve the power I seek?”

As the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin had untold powers, powers stronger and more resilient than he could have ever imagined, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

No matter how much power he attained, he couldn’t outrun the memories, couldn’t forget the days before, the days when he was merely Rumplestiltskin, cowardly spinner. He’d been mocked by all, treated like trash cluttering the street. Even his wife, Milah, had viewed him with derision, choosing to leave him for adventure on the high seas with a pirate.

Rumple would never forget the low moment in his life. He’d been walking alone at night on the road leading from his cottage to the nearby village when his solitary musings were interrupted by the sound of horses swiftly approaching. He’d lost his balance and fell to the ground as the company of soldiers pulled up before him.

“Well, what do we have here?” the leader of the company mocked with a malevolent grin. “If it’s not our resident weaver! Wherever can you be going at this time of night?"

“Let me pass,” Rumple begged softly. “Is it not enough that you knocked me to the ground?”

The soldier laughed, and his men followed his example.

“I merely put you in your place, Spindleshanks,” the soldier drawled. “Where else but the dirt should worms live?”

The encounter had ended even worse than it began. After hurling a fair number of insults, the soldier forced him to kiss his boot.

It was the most humiliating moment of Rumplestiltskin’s life.

But the humiliation was not to last for long. The very next day, he met Zoso and took the Dark One powers. Never again would he be treated so vilely.

He’d grown in power and influence from that moment on. Suddenly rather than mocking him, his fellow villagers feared him. Despite all the power and all the abilities, there was still that kernel of fear in the back of his mind. If he’d been given his power, it could also be taken away. He had to find a way to ensure that never happened. He _had_ to.

So when he heard tales of a mysterious seer who lived on the moors, he knew he had to come to her, had to glean what he could from her wisdom and foresight.

If only she would stop speaking in riddles.

“I...see...two...paths,” the seer croaked, still clutching at her throat. Rumplestiltskin smiled in satisfaction. He’d bent her to his will as he knew he would. 

Lazily dropping his hand to his side, he released her from the chokehold. The seer fell to the ground, coughing and gagging, her riotous red curls covering her face as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Well?” Rumple asked after a moment. “What are those two paths?”

The seer seemed to gather her strength and got to her feet. She raised her arms before her, and two bright blue eyes peered at him from her palms.

“You, Rumplestiltskin, are on the path to absolute power,” she began. “No one will stand before your terrible wrath. You will find even the power to untether yourself from the dagger, but beware, another path might still be taken.”

“Speak plainly, Dearie!” Rumple growled.

“There is but one man who can defeat you, one man who will be your undoing: Killian Jones with the help of his True Love.”

Rumple felt the rage build again at the sound of that name. Killian Jones, the worthless pirate who had stolen his wife. “Well then,” Rumple said, “I suppose killing Killian Jones just made the top of my to do list.”

The seer shook her head. “That I would not advise.”

“Why not?” Rumple exploded.

“Your path is inextricably linked with Killian Jones,” the seer said in her eerily emotionless voice. “Your _power_ is linked with him. Should you kill him, your Dark One power will die with him.”

Rumple felt a leap of fear at even the suggestion of losing his power. That couldn’t happen; that _wouldn’t_ happen. He’d search night and day for a way to neutralize the threat against him, and when he found it, Killian Jones had best beware. Rumplestiltskin planned to make him wish he’d never been born.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Killian Jones watched helplessly as his entire world crumbled before him. He’d had a difficult life, there was no doubt--losing both his parents at a tender age, being sold into servitude to a cruel ship’s captain, watching his brother die--but all of it was nothing compared to the moment in which he found himself now.

The day had started well enough. He’d woken with his love, his Milah in his arms. He’d left her sleeping peacefully as he silently dressed and made his way up to the deck. It was a clear, crisp morning, the wind perfect for setting sail. After relieving his first mate, who’d taken the wheel overnight, Killian checked their direction, nodding in satisfaction to see that Mr. Smee had kept them on course. He’d watched the sun rise over the waves in gorgeous shades of pinks and purples.

Nothing calmed him, nothing steadied him like the horizon upon the sea.

But the sun had not yet reached its zenith before everything shattered before him.

He’d been trading banter with Milah, his men industriously attending to the tasks necessary to keep the Jolly Roger in ship shape, when suddenly a noxious cloud of red smoke appeared on deck, and when it cleared, there stood the Dark One, in all his malevolent, scaly glory.

Before Killian even had time to reach for his sword, Rumplestiltskin waved his hand, and all Killian’s men froze in place. With a second wave, Killian felt himself rushing backwards until his back slammed against the mast, ropes coming to coil around him until he couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

But all of that he could handle. What made the blood turn to ice in his veins was the sight now before him. Rumplestlitskin advanced upon Milah, a cruel sort of amusement, laced with anger, graced his hideous face.

To her credit, Milah did not cower before the threat bearing down upon her. Instead, she stood to her full height, hands clenched in fists at her side.

“Well, well, well,” Rumple said mockingly, “what have we here? My wife living in carefree bliss with her ‘twoo wuv’. Isn’t that precious?”

“I’m sorry, Rumple,” Milah pleaded, “I know I was a coward, leaving you like that, but I couldn’t face our life anymore. I _never_ loved you.”

She’d started speaking in a conciliatory manner, but by the end she was angry, defiant. Killian swelled with pride at his love’s courage--but underneath that pride was a clawing fear. One did not defy the Dark One without incurring steep consequences. 

Rumple laughed, a high pitched, maniacal sound. “You think I care that you ran away, Dearie? You think I wasn’t relieved to be rid of you? No, I’m not here to take back what the dirty pirate stole from me.”

“Then what is it you want?” Milah asked. “We have treasure. It’s yours; anything you want if only you leave us in peace.”

“Ah, but you see, I spin straw into gold,” Rumple drawled with a flourish of his hand as he slowly advanced upon Milah. “What do I want with your paltry baubles?”

“A magic bean, perhaps,” Milah tried again. Killian could hear the fear seeping into her voice in spite of herself. “It could take you to any land you like.”

“All I want,” Rumple growled, so close now Milah could feel his breath on her face, “is power, and you, wife, are standing in my way.”

Quick as lightning, before Milah even had a chance to scream, the Dark One plunged his hand into her chest and pulled out her beating heart.

“No!” Killian shouted, struggling against his bonds until he was finally able to pull an arm free, reach for a fish hook and cut himself loose. Sprinting across the deck, he caught Milah in his arms as she fell to the floor.

Milah cried out in pain as Rumple crushed her heart to a fine powder and let it scatter to the four winds.

“I love you,” she whispered, before closing her eyes and dying.

Killian layed her gently upon the deck, pushing aside the naked agony he felt to draw upon another emotion: blinding, choking rage. Clutching the fish hook in his hand, he rushed the Dark One, plunging the hook deep into his heart.

But the Dark One merely laughed, pulling the hook from his chest as though it was no more consequential than a splinter. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to kill me, Dearie.”

“Even demons can be killed,” Killian ground out, “I will find a way!”

“Good luck finding a way from where I’m sending you,” Rumple said with a smile.

And then Rumplestiltskin did something so bizarre, it stopped Killian in his tracks. He picked up Killian’s captain’s log, flipping to the first page and beginning to read.

_Oh what is life without you?_

_A vision passed, a tale sad told._

_Oh love, how I love you!_

_More than all the jewels in the realm._

_Forevermore._

“How sweet,” the Dark One said, smiling mockingly. “I had no idea you were such a poet. I’m sure Milah loved it.”

“Don’t you dare speak her name, you bloody bastard!” Killian shouted.

Rumplestiltskin grinned, wagging a finger in front of him and tutting. “Such coarse language, captain. We can’t have that.”

Killian rushed forward again, not knowing what he planned to do, but knowing that he had to make Rumplestiltskin pay for what he’d done. The Dark One raised his hand, and Killian felt himself choking, desperate for air.

“Now,” Rumple continued, finally lowering his hand and letting Killian fall to the deck, “what are we to do with you to keep you _contained_? Ah! I think I have the perfect solution.”

Killian watched, still coughing and gasping for air, as Rumplestiltskin waved his hand with another flourish, and a pen and an inkwell appeared, suspended in air before him.

“Do you know what this is, pirate?” Rumple asked. He continued without waiting for a reply. “Squid ink. Did you know that squid ink is highly imbued with magical powers? One stroke of this pen, and you will be neutralized for all eternity.”

Killian struggled to his feet, but before he’d even taken a step, Rumplestiltskin had already begun writing.

The Dark One had no sooner finished writing when the words on the page began glowing a bright gold, the light growing and growing until it shot forth, enveloping Killian in its snare. The light pulled him, tugged at him until he felt himself dissolve into smoke and pour back into the book itself.

“Now that that little complication is dealt with,” Rumple said, “on to bigger and better things.”

Tossing the book lazily to the deck, Rumple disappeared as quickly as he came, leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake.

_Notes: Welcome to my CSSNS story for 2020! This one should prove to be much shorter than my story from last year (which is still not finished). I’m anticipating about seven chapters._

_\--I can’t take credit for the poem Killian wrote Milah (other than the last line that I changed to more closely fit Killian. The actual last line was “more than earth and her stories of gold”). I’d love to give the author credit, but I have no idea who it is. This poem is actually the story’s reason for being. I came across it one day at work while working on a digitization of old textbooks project. The poem was handwritten and left behind in the particular book I was working on. As soon as I saw it, I knew one day I had to write a story about it._

_\--Up next: We meet Emma in the present time. She works in the Storybrooke Public Library. What will happen when she comes across the captain’s log in which Rumple trapped Killian?_


	2. Chapter 1

For the first few days Killian was in a constant state of panic. He seemed to be incorporeal, more like a ghost than a flesh and blood man, and yet that wasn’t precisely the case either. A ghost could move from place to place, could interact with those around him. Utterly insane though it sounded, Killian couldn’t but conclude that he had _become_ the words of the book, the last words he’d ever pen to Milah.

_Milah._

When he wasn’t in a complete panic about his new state of being, Killian was mired in the deepest, darkest grief he’d ever experienced. Even losing his brother hadn’t produced this kind of pain. It was a pain he could never flee from, never escape. In his present state he couldn’t engage in the kinds of activities--drinking copious amounts of rum, spending pleasurable nights with the myriads of willing women he could always find in port--that he lost himself in during those first torturous weeks after Liam’s death.

His only solace was sleep. For whatever merciful reason, the bloody Crocodile who’d killed his love had left him that. 

But even sleep brought little peace, for in sleep were the dreams. Some were nightmares where he had to live Milah’s murder over and over again. Some were sweet beautiful dreams that only served to make the pain stronger when he awoke.

His crew, for their part, tried to free him from his strange prison. Mr. Smee, in particular, went above and beyond in his quest for a solution. Unfortunately his every attempt was futile. No sorcerer, no seer, no fairy, no wise man or woman had any ideas how one who had been transfigured into a poem could be set free.

The only being who put forth any kind of solution at all was the Blue Fairy. She’d suggested that there were some curses that only True Love could break. A fat lot of good that did him! His true love was dead.

The thought brought a new wave of agony, and with the agony, rage. He meant what he said. He _would_ find a way free of his prison, and when he did, he _would_ find a way to stop, kill, and utterly destroy the Dark One. He _would_ see justice for Milah if it took every ounce of his being to accomplish.

But as the weeks wore into months and the months wore into years and the years wore into decades, the worst of the panic, rage and pain slowly bled away, leaving him simply empty.

Mercifully, he was able to pass long months and even years in sleep, for as long as the book was closed, time moved inexorably ahead without his knowledge.

From time to time, someone would find his book, open it, and peruse its contents. During those times, Killian got a glimpse of the world around him. He watched, fascinated as everything changed--fashions, hairstyles, technologies, language and the way it was used. Everything. Some eras intrigued him and others made him shudder with revulsion. 

But through it all, one thing remained. After Mr. Smee passed away peacefully in his bed at the ripe old age of ninety-three, no one knew of his presence within the written word, and no one had even accidentally stumbled upon a way to free him.

Given his extended periods of unawareness when his prison was closed, Killian had no idea how long he’d languished within the book, no closer to being freed, no closer to finding a way to avenge Milah, but he knew it had been more than a few lifetimes. With each year that passed, Killian lost more and more hope.

But hope was a resilient thing. It never completely abandoned him. He had to hold onto what little scrap he had left lest he go utterly mad.

And that tiny scrap of hope assured him of one thing--somewhere, somehow someone would find a way to free him, and then everything would change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Storybrooke, Maine, Present Day_

“Hey, Belle,” Emma called as she pushed open the Storybrooke Public Library door and stepped through.

The resident librarian herself peeked out from behind a bookshelf where she seemed to be reshelving items patrons had recently returned.

“Emma!” Belle smiled, “I didn’t expect to see you this early. Since you’re covering for me tonight, I didn’t expect you in until at least late afternoon.”

Emma took off her coat, tossing it carelessly onto the coat rack behind the circulation desk before sitting down and booting up the computer. “I figure the sooner I get started, the sooner I finish.”

Shelving the last book, Belle pushed the book truck back to circulation and sat beside Emma. “I can’t thank you enough for offering to take this shift for me. I know inventory isn’t exactly fun.”

Emma grimaced. Understatement there. Taking inventory was unfortunately something that had to be done every year, but it was long, slow boring work, and given the choice between this task and getting a root canal, Emma wasn’t sure which she would choose.

“Well, Henry’s going home with his friend Nicholas Zimmer tonight for a sleepover, so it was going to be a boring evening anyway,” Emma said, thinking about her ten year old son, who’d been so excited this morning at the prospect of a night of fun with his best friend that he was almost literally bouncing off the walls.

“Still,” Belle said, turning and placing a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Thank you!”

“You could thank me by giving me the day off tomorrow,” Emma slyly suggested.

“Done!” Belle said.

_Well that was easy_ , Emma thought, wishing for the moment she’d gone even bigger with her request.

“By the way,” Emma said absently as she pulled up the online card catalog, looking for the best place to start her inventory, “got any interesting plans tonight?”

Belle was silent for several moments, and Emma looked over to see a soft smile and a gentle blush on her cheeks. “I’ve got another date with Robert.”

Emma pursed her lips. It wasn’t her place to tell her boss what she could or couldn’t do with her personal life, but there was just something about Robert Gold, the owner of the town pawn shop--something slimy, something underhanded. She’d made her thoughts of the man perfectly clear before, but Belle was a trusting soul, someone who saw the best in everyone she met. Emma just hoped Gold didn’t take advantage of that trusting nature.

“Now Emma, I know you don’t like him,” Belle said, “but there’s a good man hidden away in there; I’m sure of it.”

“Must be hidden really well,” Emma said under her breath. Belle gave her a _look_ , and Emma knew it was time to change the subject. “So where do you want me to inventory today?”

“I thought I’d put you in the rare books and antiquities section,” Belle said.

Emma perked up. There was something about antiquities that called to her, always had. Emma wondered about the people who’d owned those books. What were their stories? What kind of life did they lead? What kind of a journey had they taken throughout all their years of existence?

“I figured you’d appreciate that,” Belle said with a grin.

“As inventory goes, it could be worse,” Emma said, loading a laptop and barcode scanner onto a book truck and heading toward the section in the far back corner where she’d been assigned for the day.

It had certainly been quite the journey she’d taken through the years. She’d had a difficult childhood from the start. Found as an infant on the side of the road, moving from foster home to foster home, she’d always been the lost girl who didn’t matter and didn’t think she ever would.

She thought that had all finally changed when she met Neal Cassidy when she was sixteen. In retrospect, the fact that they’d met when she tried to steal the same car he’d already stolen should have given her a clue that he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming.

They’d been living the Bonnie and Clyde dream for about six months before it all fell apart. He’d left her hanging for a crime he’d committed--the theft of some really pricey watches--and disappeared from her life forever.

She’d gotten eleven months in the local juvenile detention center.

It was eleven years ago, just past her seventeenth birthday, that Emma had experienced the lowest moment of her life. There she sat on her lumpy prison cell mattress looking down at a pregnancy test that stated unequivocally that in a matter of months she was going to be a mother.

The thought brought absolute panic. She couldn’t be a mother! She had nothing, no one. When she got out of jail in about a year, she’d be on the street. She couldn’t even take care of herself; how could she take care of a baby?

She’d have to put her kid into the system, but that thought filled her with revulsion as well. No kid deserved that kind of a life. What kind of a monster would she be to do that to her own son or daughter?

That’s when Granny Lucas came into her life, and Emma didn’t think if she lived three lifetimes she’d ever be able to thank the older woman for all she’d done for her.

Granny was the owner and proprietor of a diner and inn in the nearby town of Storybrooke, Maine. Granny was tough, no nonsense, but beneath it all, she had a heart of gold, a heart that truly went out to those less fortunate, particularly the young and parentless. When her daughter, Anita, had died, she’d taken in her granddaughter Ruby and raised her as her own daughter. 

Loving the sense of fulfillment that gave her, Granny started volunteering at the juvenile detention center where Emma was imprisoned. She’d bring food, visit the inmates who had no one else to visit them, just generally bring the hope with her that someone out there gave a damn.

For whatever reason, Granny had taken a particular interest in Emma, and the feeling was most definitely mutual. Granny was like the grandmother Emma had never had, and she’d thank God everyday of her life for bringing the woman into her life.

Granny had visited the day after Emma took the pregnancy test, and it had been Granny that had given her hope even in her bleakest moments. She’d taken charge right away, telling Emma not to worry about a thing except for staying healthy and taking care of that precious baby she was carrying. 

Granny was as good as her word. She was by Emma’s side, holding her hand, in the prison infirmary as she gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy. Granny had taken the baby, vowing to care for him as if he was her own until Emma was released.

But it didn’t stop there. Granny brought baby Henry with her every time she visited Emma after that, and Emma could never thank the woman enough for giving her those moments to bond with her son, even under the less-than-ideal circumstances. When Emma was released two months after Henry’s birth, Granny, Ruby and baby Henry were there waiting for her. Granny had taken them back to her inn, offered Emma a waitressing job in her cafe, and told her she and Henry could have one of her rooms for as long as they needed.

In a lot of ways, Emma thought Granny had saved her life.

She’d worked for a few years at Granny’s, saving money and taking care of Henry, but in the end, she’d realized she really wasn’t suited for the waitress gig, and so, with Granny’s blessing, she struck out on her own, looking for a job that would suit her better. As luck would have it, she’d no sooner made the decision to look for a new job, than Belle came in and happened to mention she was looking for an assistant at the library.

She’d taken the job, found a cute little apartment on the main street of town, and now here she was, more content than she’d ever expected to be.

Granted, she was lonely sometimes, but all things considered, she couldn’t complain.

Except about taking inventory. About that she could complain. A lot. With a sigh, Emma picked the first book off the shelf and scanned it into the system.

And so began the soul-crushingly tedious job of taking inventory. This year was bound to take even longer than previous years. Belle had decided the library needed to move into the twenty-first century, and so had made the decision to update the library into a new system that could be shared by not only the school libraries in Storybrooke, but also the libraries of several nearby towns. This involved putting new barcodes on every book and entering them into the system.

Nothing good or even interesting could come from this long, interminable day and night.

Or at least so Emma thought for the first seven hours of her shift. It was at the start of her eighth and final hour that Emma was to learn how very wrong she was.

After entering the last book of the very last row in the corner of the Rare Books and Antiquities section, Emma reached for her cloth to dust the now-empty shelf, and it was then that she saw it. The oldest book she’d ever seen was wedged tightly between the book shelf and the wall. Caked in dust, the book looked like it had been there for years, decades even.

Emma reached for the book and carefully brushed the dust from the cover. The title read “This being the logbook of the Jolly Roger, belonging to Captain Killian Jones, pirate, formerly of His Royal Highness’s Navy.”

_Well this sounds intriguing_.

Emma gently opened the cover and flipped to the first page. The paper was so yellowed and brittle it looked like it could disintegrate at the lightest touch. Emma knew she should put the book aside and wait to examine with gloves in the sterile, climate-controlled antiquities room, but something about this book intrigued her to such an extent she couldn’t wait.

Who was this pirate captain Killian Jones, and what led him to become a pirate? She hoped the answers could be found within the manuscript she held.

Given that this was a ship’s log, Emma expected it to begin with a dated journal entry. Maybe notes on provisions, weather conditions, ports of call, that sort of thing.

What she wasn’t expecting on the first page was what looked like verses written in a neat, ornate hand.

The writing was faded after several years languishing behind a library bookcase, but from what she could make out, it appeared to be some sort of love poem. Taking it up, she began to read aloud.

_Oh Love what is life without you?_

_A_ [something] _past a tale_ [something, something] _._

She gave up after the second line. The page was simply too covered in dust to be legible. If she wanted to try to make out anymore, she had to do something about it.

And she didn’t know why, but she really, _really_ wanted to read more.

Raising the book before her, Emma blew gently at the dust covering the page, and then promptly jumped out of the way..

The dust didn’t fall to the ground like it should. Instead, it billowed out into a cloud of what looked like red smoke.

_What the hell?_

Emma picked up the dust rag she’d been using all day and waved at the smoke to disperse it.

When the air cleared Emma suddenly realized she was not alone. Standing before her was what could only be a pirate in a long, heavy leather jacket over a red brocade vest.

“Where’s the bloody Crocodile?” he growled.

_Notes:_

_\--Hi again! With any luck, I’ll be able to stick to my self-imposed schedule of updating every Tuesday--although I make no promises. The muse is a fickle, fickle creature._

_\--So now, I believe we’ve met (or at least seen mention of, since Henry was not physically present in this chapter) all the main players in this story. Just a note: if you are a big Rumple or Rumbelle fan, you’re probably not going to be too fond of this story. Neither the Dark One nor his relationship come out looking good here._

_\--The whole “moving to a new library system that’s connected to the schools, and thus having to re-barcode every title” thing is a project I had to work on last year and the year before at my own library. Every single grumble Emma had about it being boring and tedious was 100% merited. It was, quite possibly, the most boring project I’ve ever been forced to do at work. I figured if I had to endure it, I’d make Emma endure it too. It’s only fair; after all, she gets a hot pirate out of it. All I got were paper cuts._

_\--Up next: Emma and Killian both try to make sense of the new, very strange situation they find themselves in--and, with Belle’s help--they start looking for a way to send him back home._


	3. Chapter 3

“Where’s the bloody Crocodile?”

For a moment, Emma simply stood in shock, mouth hanging open. What she was seeing before her simply didn’t compute, but when the man, ghost, whatever he was, took a step toward her she reacted. Grabbing the biggest book she could find on the nearby shelf, she lobbed it at him, striking him squarely in his admittedly handsome ( _very_ handsome) face.

“Bloody hell, woman!” he groused, rubbing at the point of impact.

_Well at least he’s not a ghost_ , Emma thought to herself, wondering if that made the situation better or worse.

The man made a move as though to push past her, but she stood her ground. “Who the hell are you, and what kind of psycho magic trick did you just play?”

For the first time, the man seemed to look at her, really _look_ at her. Immediately the murderous scowl left his face to be replaced by a flirtatious grin.

“Captain Killian Jones, at your service, love,” he said with an exaggerated bow, “and to whom do I have the very great _pleasure_ of addressing?”

_Captain Killian Jones? As in…?_

“You’re telling me, you’re Captain Jones? As in _the_ Captain Jones who owned and wrote this log?” 

“The very same, darling,” he said.

She didn’t know whether she wanted to scream, laugh hysterically or punch him in the face. Maybe she’d do all three before all was said and done. “No, see, Killian Jones, the pirate or whatever, who wrote this book lived in the 18th century. People who lived in the 18th century don’t jump out of books and rant and rave about---what was it?--crocodiles!”

“From which century do people normally jump out of books?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning lazily against the wall at his back.

Emma growled. “That’s not what I--ugh! People from the 18th century don’t do anything! People from the 18th century are dead! It’s freaking 2020!”

That seemed to get his attention. He straightened, a look of shock on his face. “2020? It’s been nearly three hundred bloody years since the crocodile trapped me?”

“Crocodile?” Emma shouted as though his rantings about a prehistoric reptile was the most shocking thing that had happened in the last five minutes. “What _is_ it with you and crocodiles?”

“Emma? Is everything alright?” Belle called, making her way over from circulation. “I thought I heard voices. Are you--oh!”

Her eyes going round, Belle froze at the sight before her. “You have company. Um, _how_ do you have company? I was right in front of the only working door in this place, and I didn’t see anyone come in.”

“I--” Emma said, shaking her head, wondering suddenly if the tedious task of inventory had bored her to sleep and this was just an elaborate, extremely vivid, dream. “I have no idea.”

“I apologize for the surprise,” the man said, stepping forward, and placing a courtly kiss on Belle’s hand. “Allow me to explain.”

In a few short sentences, the man, Killian Jones apparently, spun a crazy tale about an affair with a beautiful woman, the two of them being overtaken by her powerful and quite mad husband, and then something about murder and magic and becoming words in a book.

It was a lot to take in.

For several heartbeats, both women were silent. Finally Belle cleared her throat. “Well that’s--that’s quite the tale. Emma, did he really come out of a book?”

“I mean,” Emma said, “I blew on the dust, it formed a cloud and poof there he was. But...but magic isn’t a thing! People don’t get trapped in books! I don’t know if I’m going crazy or the both of you are, but this _cannot_ be happening!”

“I assure you it is, love,” Killian said. “No one wishes more than I that it was indeed impossible, but it’s not. I’ve existed in a living hell for centuries.”

Belle turned toward her. “I know it makes no sense, but what other explanation can there be? He didn’t come in via the door, and none of the windows are big enough for a full grown man to fit through. He had to come from _somewhere_.”

Emma hated to admit it--mainly because it was freaking _insane_ \--but Belle had a point. In any event, regardless of how Killian Jones got here, he was here now, and they had to deal with the situation.

“What are we going to do with him?” Emma asked.

The man sauntered up to her, mischief and seduction on his face. “I can think of more than a few things you are quite welcome to do with me.” He winked. Actually winked.

Emma rolled her eyes.

“If he really is from the 18th century,” Belle said, pointedly ignoring Killian’s flirting, “we can’t just leave him alone. This world is completely foreign to him. Maybe we should--”

Belle was interrupted by a ding from her cell. Looking down at her screen she gasped. “I had no idea it was so late. Robert’s supposed to pick me up in half an hour. Emma, I can call and reschedule our date if you want. I’m sure Robert will understand...well maybe not understand, but he’ll be okay with it.”

Emma shook her head. “No go on ahead. Enjoy your date. I’ll--well, I’ll figure out something.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Belle asked. “I hate to leave you with him. Maybe I should call Graham at the sheriff’s station--”

“And tell him what?” Emma asked. “A time travelling pirate just jumped out of an old book? He’d probably cart us both off to that creepy old mental ward they used to have in the hospital basement.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with a pirate--”

Killian stepped forward, all traces of flirtation gone from his face to be replaced by what looked like absolute sincerity. “I assure you, love, a pirate I may be, but I live by a code. I mean no harm to any who do me no harm. Your friend is quite safe in my company.”

“You’re sure, Emma?” Belle asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Go on. Enjoy your night. I grew up on the streets, remember? I can take care of myself. He tries anything I’ll shoot him or punch him or find some other way to make him regret all his life choices. I’ll be fine; I promise.”

“Okay,” Belle finally agreed, “but call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Emma watched Belle reluctantly gather her things and walk out, and then she was left with just the pirate and no idea what to do next.

“I assure you--Emma, was it?--I have no wish to be a burden,” Killian said. “I’m rather adaptable, and I’m no child in need of minding. You’ve no need to trouble yourself on my account. If you could simply point me in the direction of the nearest inn, I’ll be on my way.”

For a moment, Emma considered it, but then she shook her head.

“Look, like it or not, I’m the one who brought you here,” she said, “and you’d be a total fish out of water in twenty-first century Storybrooke. Only seems right I help you out while we figure out--well, whatever it is that happens next with you.”

He smiled at her--a genuine, almost boyish gesture that made her stomach swoop in spite of herself. He was, after all, incredibly hot, and she was a normal, red-blooded woman. “I’d greatly appreciate any assistance you could give me.”

Emma thought for a moment. She couldn’t very well leave him alone in a land where even the most basic necessities were foreign to him. “I’ve got a couch you can crash on for now. In the morning we’ll figure something out.”

Henry was away for the night, so she wouldn’t be putting him in danger, and she could take care of herself. It wasn’t the perfect situation, but what else was there to do?

“You have my thanks.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian gripped the sides of his seat so tightly his knuckles had turned white as Emma Swan’s automobile careened at breakneck speed through the streets of this town she’d called Storybrooke. By the feel of it, they were nearing thirty-five knots!

Perhaps Rumplestiltskin’s revenge was still ongoing. Perhaps it had always been his plan for Killian to be killed immediately upon his freeing from the book.

“Hey, are you alright?” Emma asked, brow furrowed as she glanced over at him. “You look a little green.”

“Aye,” he said tightly. “I’ve yet to acclimate to this vessel. I feel as though I’m taking my life into my hands.”

“Hey, I’m a good driver, buddy,” she said, her tone light.

“I’ve no doubt you’re quite capable, Swan,” he said, “but I’m not accustomed to traveling any faster than a horse can take me.”

“Well don’t worry,” she said. “I promise we’re safe, and we’ll be back at my apartment in a couple minutes.”

They were silent for a moment, and then she turned to glance at him again. “I bet this world seems pretty weird to you, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea.”

The first thing Killian noticed upon his release from the book was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was dressed strangely in tight, coarse blue-ish breeches that did nothing to hide her long, slim legs, a white top and a red leather jacket. Her long, blonde hair flowed in curls down her back.

But Killian didn’t have time to waste ogling the comely lass. He had a crocodile to skin, and he aimed to do it without delay. When he asked about his loathsome adversary, however, the woman lobbed a book at his head.

In hindsight, perhaps he hadn’t approached the situation with the delicacy it deserved. After all, he’d had centuries to come to terms with his admittedly very strange situation. It had to be quite the shock to her for a man to seemingly appear out of thin air.

But the woman--Emma Swan, as he was to learn she was called--to her credit, recovered quickly. She stood her ground, proving herself to be quite the tough lass. What’s more, she seemed utterly unaffected by the exaggerated flirtation he’d used as a coping mechanism since he was old enough to realize the ladies found him appealing.

He'd liked her from the start.

After a short consultation with the other woman who worked with her, it had been determined Killian would return home with the lovely Miss Swan. He couldn’t say he was disappointed by the arrangement. Aside from her obvious charms, Killian was relieved he didn’t have to navigate this strange new land on his own, adaptable though he’d always proven to be.

And it was a very strange new world indeed. Everything about it seemed harsh, strident, from the lights in the library, to all the machinery, to the noise and bustle--even at night. It was overwhelming, and Killian suspected he would have panicked without the blonde vixen beside him to steady him.

She’d finished her tasks at the library not long after he’d emerged from the book and then led him to a strange, metal contraption, painted in yellow, that waited for them at the side of the road.

“That’s….that’s quite the vessel you captain there, Swan,” he said, eyeing it suspiciously.

She’d chuckled. “It’s called a car. I’ve had this one for years, and it’s not the greatest, but it’ll get us from point A to point B.”

He’d gotten into the vehicle and fastened his seatbelt as she’d instructed, but nothing could have prepared him for the noise as she turned the key and started the beast.

“Bloody hell!” he’d exclaimed, jumping in his seat at the sudden cacophony.

“Sorry; I guess I should have prepared you for that,” she said.

His heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm as he got over his fright--only for it to begin pounding again when she pulled away from the curve and began driving at an ungodly speed.

And so here they were.

Fortunately for his already frayed nerves, Swan had spoken truly when she told him they hadn’t far to go. Inside of ten minutes, she slowed to a stop outside of a large, brick building consisting of several dwellings she called “apartments.”

They went inside the building, and Swan led him directly to a set of what looked like metal doors. She pushed a button on the wall, and after waiting a moment, the doors slid open to reveal a small, metal room. Swan stepped in immediately, but Killian hesitated.

“It’s okay,” she coaxed. “It’s called an elevator. It’ll take us up to the third floor where I live. I promise it’s safe.”

He supposed he had no choice but to trust her, and so he stepped inside as the metal doors slowly closed behind him.

Moments later they arrived at her apartment. He exclaimed in wonder as she hit a switch and her dwelling was instantly bathed in light. Though filled with a wide variety of gadgets and machines and other items utterly foreign to him, he found he liked her home. It looked warm, comfortable, inviting.

“Kitchen’s right over there,” Swan said, shedding her jacket and placing it on a rack in the entryway. “There are bottles of water in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”

“The...fridge?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “The fridge is that tall metal box in the corner. We put food and drinks and stuff in there to keep them cold. I have some leftover pizza I was planning to eat for dinner. You can join me if you want.”

He had no clue what pizza was, but from her statement, he gathered it was a kind of food. His stomach growled as he reflected that it had been more than two hundred years since his last meal. “I would be delighted, love.”

They ate the pizza--which he had indeed found quite delectable--in a silence that was the slightest bit awkward, and then she showed him to the facilities--a small room called the “bathroom”. He scratched behind his ear at the delicacy of such things as she explained the function of the porcelain bowl along one wall--called a toilet--and then she explained how to use the shower and the sink.

Running water was a marvel he could certainly get used to.

She bustled around then, preparing the couch as a makeshift bed for him before telling him she planned to adjourn to her bedchamber.

Just before she reached her bedroom doorway, she stopped and turned back to him. “Look, Killian, I know this is all strange for you. This whole situation--this whole world must feel like, I don’t know, like a totally different universe than you’re used to, but I promise we’ll figure everything out. Somehow we’ll get you back to your own time and place.”

He smiled, realizing that though he was out of his element, he was not uncomfortable, and he owed it all to the woman standing before him. There was something about her, something real, something relatable, something familiar. He’d known her for a scant two hours time, but already he felt as though he knew her. Already he liked her.

“Thank you, Swan,” he said gently. “For everything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Robert Gold took a deep, steadying breath as he limped toward the safe at the back of his store. It took him three tries to get the combination right; his hands were shaking in a way they hadn’t in centuries. He breathed a sigh of relief as the safe door popped open and he was able to ascertain that his greatest treasures--the dagger and several vials of potion--were still secure.

When he’d picked Belle up at her apartment for their date tonight, he’d certainly envisioned the evening taking a different--far more pleasant--turn. He liked Belle, he really did. There was a sort of goodness about her that was refreshing, that even made him wish to be a better man, occasionally.

But he wasn’t a better man; he couldn’t afford to be. He’d come too far in his life to give it all up, even for someone as worthy as Belle.

From the moment Gold arrived at Belle’s doorstep this evening, he knew something significant had happened. She was flushed, eyes wide. She looked as though she was nearly bursting with the weight of whatever was on her mind.

“Belle, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Gold said, following her into her apartment as she invited him in.

She gave him an odd look. “I suppose in a way I have, Robert,” she said, turning away to gather a sweater and her purse before stepping outside and locking her door. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Gold felt a chill of foreboding go down his spine. He didn’t know how, but somehow he knew what she said next would change everything.

“What--” Gold cleared his throat and tried again. “What did you see?”

She was silent for a moment as they got into his car and Gold turned the key in the ignition. Finally she turned to him, her expression earnest, full of wonder. “Emma was doing inventory in the antiquities area today, when she found this old book, this old pirate captain’s log.”

Gold’s heart began to pound, his mouth going dry. _It couldn’t be. It couldn’t! It had been centuries!_

“She, I don’t know, blew on it or something,” Belle continued, apparently unaware that he was now less than a whisper from a full on panic attack, “and--now I know this sounds crazy, but it happened; I swear!--the pirate who wrote the log somehow came out of the book!”

Gold gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. “What--what was the pirate’s name?”

Belle’s brow furrowed as she looked at him. “I tell you a pirate came out of a centuries’ old book, and your first question is what his name was?”

Gold forced himself to chuckle. He hoped it sounded less nervous to her than it did in his own ears. “I suppose you have a point, dearie,” he said, “but if you would--indulge me.”

“Killian Jones,” she answered.

For a moment, Gold felt his vision narrow as he came perilously close to passing out right there behind the wheel, but weakness, panic was something he couldn’t afford. He took a deep breath and did his best to calm down.

Belle had gone on to describe the extraordinary events of the day--her shock at the appearance of a time-traveling pirate, her concern for her friend’s safety, her curiosity about the pirate and how his continued existence was possible. 

Through sheer force of will, Gold managed to nod along at all the right places, ask all the right questions, play the part of the surprised, genuinely concerned boyfriend, and in the end, he’d turned the conversation to other, far less explosive topics.

All the while, the fear in the back of his mind grew. How? How was it possible the pirate had broken free? What did it mean for the future of his plans?

Gold had spent centuries amassing power, working stealthily to find a way to finally obtain enough to cleave himself from the dagger that held him prisoner. Several times he’d come close. He’d placed himself at the right hand of some of the most powerful men and women of all time. History called them dictators, excoriated them as evil, as monsters, but Gold knew that “evil” was simply another word for powerful and cunning. These supposed “dictators” knew what they wanted and were willing to go after it with all they had, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences.

If innocent people had to suffer in the pursuit of their ambitions, that was simply a price that must be paid.

More than once, one of these men had very nearly succeeded. _Gold_ had very nearly succeeded, but always at the last moment they were foiled, their “evil” thwarted.

It had taught Gold a very valuable lesson: the only person he could count on was himself. And so, he’d set about concocting a new plan to finally take the power he so desperately needed, but this time he wouldn’t be behind the scenes. This time he would be holding the reins himself.

Gently picking up a vial of greenish-potion, Gold perused it thoroughly. It was still intact, seemed, in fact to be strengthening just as it should. By the next full moon, this would all, finally be over.

That is, of course, assuming Killian Jones didn’t ruin it all.

Ever so gingerly, Gold set the vial back in its holder and then shut the safe. Bracing both hands against the counter of his darkened shop, he hung his head, his breathing becoming fast and shallow.

He’d come too far, worked too hard to be thwarted now. He didn’t know how, but somehow he _would_ find a way to confront Killian Jones, and this time, he’d put him in a prison so deep, deadly, and impenetrable that even hell itself would shudder to think of it.

_Notes: Sorry for the almost-week’s delay in posting. I had a cold last week and just didn’t feel like writing. Hopefully now that I’m on the mend, I can return to my usual weekly posting schedule._

_\--Up next: Gold continues putting his plan into motion. He comes to learn that he might still have use for Killian. Meanwhile, Killian meets Henry and settles into 21st century life with Emma and Henry while the three of them--with Belle’s help--set about to find a way to send him back home._


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah Fisher pasted on what she hoped was a sincere-looking smile as the bell over the door of her ice cream parlor, Any Given Sundae rang, announcing another customer. Sarah loved her life, loved her shop, loved her customers, but it was the end of a very long day and she wanted nothing more than to close up, go home and collapse in bed.

“Welcome to Any Given Sundae! What can I….Oh! It’s you,” she said, fake smile sliding off her face at the sight of the man before her.

“Now is that any way to greet a customer, Dearie?” Mr. Gold sneered, dressed to the nines in his suit and tie, his cane held lazily before him.

Sarah wanted to groan. She wasn’t in the mood for any customer right now, and that went quadruple for Robert Gold. 

“I’ve still got two weeks before my rent’s due,” she ground out. Gold was the wealthiest businessman in town and owned most of the property on Main Street. He made it a point to personally collect rent every month, and gods help anyone who was even a day late in paying.

Mr. Gold chuckled nastily. “Oh I haven’t come for that,” he said.

“Then what?” Sarah snapped. “A scoop of rocky road?”

“I wouldn’t touch the slop you call ice cream, Sarah,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket, “or should I say _Ingrid_?”

Her face paled at the sound of that name, but what made her vision begin to narrow and her knees to buckle was the sight of the object he pulled out of his coat and deliberately placed on the counter.

It was a small, cylindrical box decorated in navy blue with stars. It was her would-be prison and a very tangible reminder of a past she’d hoped to bury forever.

“Where--where did you get that?” she asked, as she collapsed onto the stool behind the counter. The box had gone missing a week ago, and she’d been frantic to find it ever since. If it fell into the wrong hands--Gold’s hands, for example--it could spell her doom.. “How do you know my name?”

Gold grinned wider. “As to the box, it was sold to me at the shop just last week. How the young man came to possess it, I neither know nor care. What I do care about is just what it is and how it can benefit me.”

“It’s just a box,” she said weakly. “Just holds trinkets, that sort of thing.”

He tsked. “Now, now Miss Fisher,” he said, pasting an insincere look of disappointment on his face. “We both know that isn’t true, don’t we?”

With a flourish, Mr. Gold pulled out a long wavy dagger with the name “Rumplestiltskin” emblazoned on it. He waved the dagger in a circular motion over the box and it turned into a large sorcerer’s hat covered with stars.

“How--”

“How is not important,” he said. “Now, I have a policy of learning everything I can about the items and trinkets I come to possess for my store, and what I found out about this hat was simply fascinating. Did you know it has the power to free me from all constraints of my Dark One Power?”

She gasped, eyes going wide.

He ignored her. “Yes indeed,” he continued. “Researching this box led me to some very interesting information. You see, there was a story, a fascinating story, about a young woman many, many years ago. This woman was born with a special gift, a special kind of magic. She could cause it to snow. She could turn anything she liked into ice.”

Sarah was sure she really was going to faint this time. He couldn’t know about her! He couldn’t! She’d worked hard to keep the story buried so deep it would never again see the light of day.

“But this ability did not bring the woman joy. Instead, it brought her great sorrow,” Gold continued. It was clear he was getting great malevolent joy out of this, and Sarah doubted she’d ever hated anyone as much as she hated Gold at this moment. “For you see, the woman accidentally froze her own beloved sister to death one day. Distraught, she’d turned to her other sister for help, but that sister had no pity. Instead, she tried to imprison the woman in this very hat.”

“Please,” Sarah begged, “please stop.”

“But the story’s only getting started, Dearie!” Rumple said with a dramatic wave of his hand. “The woman managed to escape her sister’s clutches, this hat in hand, and she wandered aimlessly for many, many years. She’d thought to take power through her abilities, but she found that the power didn’t make her happy, weak fool that she was. Instead, she came to settle here in Storybrooke, set up an ice cream parlor.”

“Mr. Gold, I’m begging you!”

“She set up quite the little life for herself,” Gold continued. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if her fellow citizens, her customers, her friends were to find out what kind of a monster she really is?”

This couldn’t be happening! It _couldn’t_!

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice cold, almost hopeless.

“Ah! Now we’re coming to it,” Mr. Gold said, rubbing his hands together. “I want one thing, just one thing. Information.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Now that I know who you really are, I know that you’ve kept this box with you, guarding it carefully for decades. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve dedicated your life to learning as much about it as humanly possible. It could, after all, be your prison for all eternity.”

“If you’re going to use it on me, just get it over with,” Sarah said, standing to her full height and ignoring the way her heart felt as though it would beat out of her chest.

Gold chuckled again. “Put you in it? Now how would that benefit me? No, I don’t want to use this box on you; I want to use it on me. You see, Miss Fisher, I am capable of doing research as well, and what I learned about this box was fascinating. Not only does it have the power to trap those with magic, it has the power to untether the Dark One--me--from my dagger. Combine that with another little scheme I have in motion--one that coincidentally also needs this hat--and my power will have no limits. I’ve only got one problem.”

“And that is?”

“I’m missing something,” Gold said, frowning. “There’s something more I need to make the tethering spell work, but in all my searching of the literature, I could not determine what that something is. That’s where you come in, Dearie. Tell me what I need, and your dirty little secret will remain between us. Forever.”

Sarah was silent for long moments, conflicted. Mr. Gold had either lost his mind or was on the verge of something truly horrific. Either way, how could she aid him?

On the other hand, the likelihood of him getting what he needed was virtually nil. Useless information for her livelihood and peace of mind? It sounded like a fair trade.

“Blood,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Blood,” she repeated. “In order to make the hat work for your purposes, you must do the ritual at the zenith of the full moon. For the ritual to be successful, you must feed the hat the blood of one who was alive at the time you became the Dark One, but that’s impossible!”

Sarah expected Mr. Gold to react with explosive anger at the news that his grand plan was obviously foiled, but instead he smiled and then began to laugh.

“Nothing is impossible,” he said, “and this particular task is one that is not only within my power; it’s one in which I will take great pleasure.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma woke slowly the next morning and lazily stretched her arms over her head as memories from the evening before flooded her mind. Had it been a dream? A man jumping out of a book and then crashing on her couch--that was the type of thing that didn’t happen in Storybrooke. That was the type of thing that didn’t happen anywhere.

Just as Emma convinced herself it was in fact a dream, she heard the shower turn on 

So not a dream then.

Emma sat up in bed, brows furrowing as she realized Henry would be back from his sleepover in a couple hours, and she had no idea how she was going to explain Killian--or what she was going to do with him.

Reaching for her phone, she typed out a quick text to Belle.

**_Emma: Hey, you up?_ **

She got a response in less than a minute.

_Belle: Emma! Is everything okay? I’ve been trying to decide if I should come check on you all morning._

**_Emma: I’m fine; don’t worry. I just….I just have no idea what to do. Henry’s coming soon. What the hell do I tell him about our little pirate problem? What kind of a mom am I to bring a strange (very strange) man into the house when my son is coming home?_ **

A moment later, Emma’s phone rang.

“Hey Belle,” she said in answer.

“First of all,” Belle answered. “You’re a really great mom and a really great person.”

Emma felt her cheeks warm. It had been years--more than a decade--since she was that young, friendless orphan on the streets, and it still surprised and overwhelmed her sometimes to realize she had friends, friends who genuinely liked and cared about her.

“Thanks,” she said, finally. “That means a lot to me, but seriously. What am I going to do about Killian?”

For a moment, Belle was silent. “Emma, you know I’m a good judge of character…”

Emma snorted a laugh. “You’re a _terrible_ judge of character. You trust literally everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Belle said. “Okay, well, maybe it’s kind of true, but still. I have a good feeling about this time-travelling pirate. What about you? What does your superpower say?”

From the time she was little, Emma had this ability--called it her superpower. She could tell when someone was lying. She could tell when someone was trying to screw her over.

Well, except when it came to Neal, but that was a topic she wasn’t about to touch right now.

“There’s something about him,” Emma said finally. “Our lives literally couldn’t be more different, but it’s almost like, I don’t know, like we understand each other. I don’t think he means me or anyone else any harm. Well anyone except his ‘Crocodile’, who’s real name is apparently--get this--Rumplestiltskin.”

“Then trust your gut,” Belle said. “Stay vigilant, but if you don’t think he’s a threat, trust that instinct and don’t worry too much about Henry.”

Emma leaned back against her pillows on the bed. “It’s not so much that I’m worried for his safety. It’s just--how do I tell him this guy in our living room literally came out of a book? It’s gonna totally freak him out.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Belle said, and Emma could hear the smile in her voice. “Your boy has such a rich imagination. He’s got the heart of a true believer. I bet it’ll surprise you how much he’ll be able to accept.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Belle said. “Anyway, bring Captain Jones by the library later today. We can start doing research, find out how exactly he got here and how to get him home.”

“Sounds good,” Emma answered as she heard the shower turn off. “Talk to you later.”

Emma set her phone back on her nightstand and got up. Things had been surprisingly easy with Killian last night. She would have expected a lot of awkward silences, but that hadn’t happened at all. He’d been endlessly curious about modern conveniences, asking questions and making observations. He’d been quite the gentleman, even pulling out her chair for her when they sat down for dinner. He had a ready wit, and she’d found herself laughing more often than she would have thought possible.

Emma was not someone who took to new people quickly; she’d been burned too often for that, but she found she liked Killian already.

She just hoped things went as well this morning.

Running her fingers through her tangled hair and then tossing it up in a messy bun, Emma looked at herself in the mirror. She considered getting dressed, but in the end, decided her pink cami and flannel sleep pants would do for now. It’s not like she was trying to impress anyone.

Emma found Killian standing in the living room, looking rather lost as he perused her bookshelf. He wore the same clothes he’d had on yesterday save for the heavy leather duster that he’d hung neatly on the coat rack. He turned abruptly at the sound of her entrance.

“I hope I wasn’t imposing,” he said, “but I found I simply had to try your indoor waterfall.”

_My indoor--?_

“Oh! You mean the shower?” Emma asked.

“Shower,” Killian said softly to himself, as though memorizing the term. “Aye, the very same.”

Emma stepped past him into the kitchen and set to work on the most pressing need of the moment. “You want some coffee?” she asked.

He stepped up beside her, watching curiously as she put a couple scoops of coffee in the filter and then filled the reservoir with water. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a cup.”

Emma nodded, pressing the button and smiling as the smell of freshly percolating coffee flooded the room. “And to answer your question, it doesn’t bother me a bit. You’re free to use the shower and make yourself at home. It’s the least I can do, since I’m the one who brought you to this strange land.”

Emma poured them each a mug, and they settled in on the couch. They sipped in silence for a moment, before Killian gestured to the photos on her bookshelf.

“The lad in these photos, is he your son?”

Emma smiled fondly, looking at the photos in question. “Yeah, that’s Henry. He’s ten. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Killian took another sip. “And his father?” he asked in a deliberately casual voice.

“Not in the picture,” Emma said, her voice short. The last thing she wanted to talk about--the last thing she _ever_ wanted to talk about--was Neal.

“I...see,” he answered slowly.

Emma sighed, turning toward him. “It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on, and I think Henry and I have made a good life for ourselves.”

“It certainly seems so from what I can observe,” Killian said, “And if I might add, Henry’s father is a bloody fool for--whatever he did to you.”

Emma felt an unexpected warmth in her heart. “Thanks,” she said.

For a moment they were each lost in thought, before Emma once again broke the silence. “So, Henry stayed the night with a friend last night, and he’ll probably be home anytime now.”

Killian got to his feet. “I quite understand,” he said. “I’ll be on my way.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Emma said, hurrying to stand as well. “I’m not telling you to leave. I mean, circumstances aren’t any different now than they were yesterday, and I meant what I said. I want to help you find a way to get back, it’s just--”

“Aye?” he encouraged with a small nod.

“I need to know I can trust you around Henry,” she said. “He’s my whole world.”

She’d half expected him to be offended, but instead he smiled gently, a gesture that inexplicably made her heart flutter. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of a mother. I assure you that your lad has nothing to fear from me. I’ve no wish or intention of hurting a child, and certainly not the child of a woman who’s shown me such kindness.”

She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. She was satisfied that he was telling the truth.

“Okay, well let me--”

The sound of the key in the lock interrupted her and the next moment Henry bounded into the room with all the energy of the ten year old he was.

“Hi mom!” Henry said, dropping his bag at the door. “Nicholas and Ava got a new puppy! We played with it all night! It was awesome! His dad said--”

When he saw Killian, Henry stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“Henry,” Emma said, going over to put an arm around her son. “I’d like you to meet Killian. He’s new in town, and he’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

“Pleased to meet you, Henry,” Killian said.

Henry looked him over curiously for a moment, and then burst out with typical ten-year-old lack of tact. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Why are you dressed like that?” Killian retorted with a frown.

“Alright guys. Calm down,” Emma said, stepping between them and then leading Henry over to the couch she and Killian had recently vacated. “Henry, this is probably going to be hard to believe, but something happened at the library yesterday.”

“What happened?” Henry asked, looking up at her in rapt attention.

Emma quickly related the events of the evening before, and Henry listened carefully, glancing between his mother and the pirate, who’d taken a seat on the other side of the room. “So you time traveled? From a long time ago?” Henry asked, unconcealed excitement in his voice.

“Aye lad, that I did,” Killian answered.

“Cool!”

Henry proceeded to pepper Killian with so many questions, it probably made the pirate’s head spin, until Emma stepped in. “Alright, let’s not overwhelm him. I’m sure he’s not used to kids.”

“It’s quite alright, Swan,” Killian reassured with a grin. “I find I quite like your lad.”

“I like you too!” Henry said. “Mom, how long is Killian staying?”

That _was_ the question, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know,” Emma answered. “We’re going to try to find a way to send him home, but right now we have no idea how to do that.”

“We should ask Miss French!” Henry said. “She’s always good at finding stuff out.”

Emma turned toward Killian. “As a matter of fact, Belle French--my boss at the library--made the same suggestion. If it works for you, we can head over to the library and start doing some research.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey Killian, can you give me another lesson tonight?”

Emma smiled at the eager, excited tone in her son’s voice. It had been a week since Killian had come into their lives, and her son had loved every minute of it. What ten year old wouldn’t love spending time with a swashbuckling pirate?

But it was more than that. Killian was genuinely good with Henry. He never once lost his patience with Henry’s continual questions, always willing to talk to and spend time with him. Henry had never really had a man in his life, and he was clearly flourishing under the attention.

Emma would have thought it would make her feel inadequate, like being a single mother she wasn’t giving her son everything he needed, but somehow Killian managed to convey the exact opposite. He never contradicted her, never questioned her, never took Henry’s side against her. He’d remarked more than once on how she should be commended for the job she’d done with her son.

“He’s a good lad, Swan,” he’d said one night after Henry had gone to bed. “It’s a credit to the upbringing you’ve provided him. Henry’s father is a bloody fool for walking away from him, but you’ve ensured he never suffered for that bastard’s stupidity.”

The praise had warmed her. Truth was, she’d always felt a little lacking as a parent. After all, she was still a teenager when she gave birth to Henry--a teenager who had never known her parents, who’d never had a loving home. What did she know about being a mother? To be told that she’d done well meant the world to her, and her heart leapt every time Killian praised her for it.

The truth, terrifying as it was, was that where Killian was concerned, her heart had been doing a lot of leaping. That feeling of connection, of _belonging_ she’d gotten from the first day with him had only grown steadier and stronger the longer she spent in his company. He was an old world gentleman, always willing to offer his assistance. He was a quick study, learning all he could about this new strange world and quickly adapting. He was entertaining and--once Henry was in bed--playfully flirtatious.

The fact was, though they’d only known each other for a week, it felt more like they’d known each other forever. It almost felt as though they were dating.

Except, of course, for the lack of any--as he put it--more enjoyable activities.

Whenever Emma started thinking of him in that way--as someone she was coming to care for, someone she wanted to be with--she had to take a step back, harden her heart. She had to remind herself every damn day that this wasn’t real; that this was temporary. They’d been working all week to find a way to send him home and out of her life for good.

They hadn’t had any success yet, but it was only a matter of time. One day they would find the solution and then he would leave them.

It was best she and Henry not get too attached or it would just hurt all the more when he was gone from their lives.

“Henry, don’t bug him,” Emma said, her tone holding a bit more harshness than she would have liked. “Killian may have other things to do.”

Henry looked immediately crestfallen, and Emma felt like the world’s biggest failure as a mother for speaking out in anger.

“It’s alright Swan,” Killian said, shooting her a sympathetic look as though he could tell what she was feeling. “I don’t mind spending time with Henry. It’s an enjoyable way to spend the evening.”

Emma relented. There would be time to wean herself and Henry off Killian when they found a solution. Who was she to deny her son something that would make him happy in the meantime?

“Alright,” Emma said finally, “you and Killian can train or have lessons or whatever tonight--but only _after_ your homework is done.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I _know_ mom. I know I have to do my stupid homework first.”

“Very well, then,” Killian said, grinning widely. “After you’ve completed your studies, we’ll adjourn to the park and we can continue practicing with the sword.”

“And the stars?” Henry asked. “Can you teach me more consolations?”

“Constellations,” Killian corrected gently, “and aye. Perhaps your lovely mum would like to join us?”

It was embarrassing how quick her heart was to leap at such a tiny thing as being called ‘lovely’.

“Sure, sounds good,” Emma said, doing her best to sound casual--an endeavor that failed miserably if Killian’s knowing grin was anything to go by--“but first it’s time you got to school and we got to the library.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, Killian settled back in his chair at the library, placing the heavy tome titled “History of the Western World” before him on the table. Idly he began flipping through the pages.

It was a longshot to think they’d find any assistance in time-traveling in a history book, but they’d already made their way through everything related to physics and the other sciences. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to become more familiar with the history he’d missed while trapped in a book.

Killian heard Emma laugh from her place a few stacks over, and he smiled to himself, finding joy at the sound of her own happiness. It was amazing how a single week here in this Storybrooke had managed to soothe his broken heart and soul more than everything in the last centuries combined.

He enjoyed spending time with Emma and her lad. It felt almost as though he had a family.

His brain conjured images of Emma emerging from her bedchamber in the morning, hair a mess of riotous curls, tiny camisole showing off her arms and a generous hint of her decolletage, and he realized _family_ was not all he felt toward Emma. Not by a long shot.

He imagined what it would be like to court her, to take her out of an evening, to return home and adjourn together to her bedchamber, to spend wild, passionate hours together there…

“Find anything?” Belle asked, startling him out of a daydream that was graphic enough to make his cheeks burn.

“Not as yet,” Killian answered, feeling a sinking sensation as he said it.

What was he _doing_ thinking of another woman? How could he so callously toss aside Milah’s memory? Milah, his love, his life. Milah the woman he vowed to avenge--and if time-travel was possible, to save.

“Well don’t give up,” Belle said. “We’ll figure it out; I’m sure of it. Maybe try going back in the history book to the time when you lived and go from there. Maybe something will jump out at you.”

Resolutely putting aside his conflicting feelings, Killian began perusing the book in earnest. For long minutes, he had no success.

But then he flipped to a chapter about the events leading up to a major war in the 1940s. A black and white photograph of a leader--a dictator with a curious small moustache--being hailed by an army of people caught his eye.

He looked closer at the image, and suddenly he leapt to his feet with a shout.

“What?” Emma asked, rushing over to their table. “What’s wrong, Killian?”

Killian pointed down at the book. “It’s him, Swan!” he said in a tight voice. “Standing behind the dictator. That’s Rumplestiltskin. That’s my crocodile!”

Belle and Emma bent down to look at the photo in question, and then they both gasped, looking at each other with twin startled expressions.

“That’s Robert,” Belle said. “That’s Robert Gold.”

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry about the cliff-hanger (not really, lol). I actually didn’t even realize it was that much of a cliff hanger until both of my betas yelled at me over it. I hope to stick to my once a week posting schedule, though, so you won’t have to wait too long._

_\--Up next: Belle confronts Gold about his picture in the history book. Will he be able to explain it away to her satisfaction? Will she be safe if he doesn’t? Meanwhile, Emma and Killian get closer, and Killian takes Emma and Henry out to dinner as a thank you--a dinner that leads to a major breakthrough in their research._


	5. Chapter 5

Belle tossed and turned all night, only briefly falling into a troubled sleep filled with bad dreams. Seeing Robert’s picture in the history book whispering in the ear of one of the world’s most infamous dictators had been quite the shock. Not only that, but the photograph was nearly eighty years old, yet Robert Gold didn’t look a day younger than he did today.

At first she’d tried to convince herself there was a logical explanation. Perhaps the man in the photograph merely bore an uncanny resemblance to Robert. Perhaps it was one of his distant relatives.

But the more Belle thought about it, the more her gut told her it wasn’t just someone who _looked_ like Robert. It _was_ Robert. The two men didn’t merely look alike, they looked identical. The man in the photo even had the same ring and the same distinctive, ornately decorated cane that Robert carried.

No, it made no sense, but somehow it was true. Still, Belle had no idea what it meant or what the implications were. As Emma said, she tended to be too trusting, to see only the good in others. Was that what she was doing with Robert? Could there possibly be a valid explanation for him consorting with one of the most evil men in history? 

That was only _one_ of the horrors in Robert’s past, if Killian was to be believed. Was it really possible that Robert had murdered his ex-wife in cold blood? Was it possible he’d trapped a man in a living hell for centuries simply to keep him from taking his power? The charges filled Belle with horror. How could she date a man like that?

But if it was somehow a misunderstanding--what Killian alleged was _impossible_ after all--didn’t she owe the man she’d been seeing the benefit of the doubt?

And so, Belle spent a sleepless night going back and forth on what she should do with the new information she’d gained. At times she almost convinced herself to let the matter drop, to pretend she’d never seen what she’d seen. Things could simply go back to the way they were, couldn’t they?

But at other times, the pit in her stomach became a wide chasm of dread, and she didn’t think anything would ever be the same. She _had_ to confront him with what she’d learned.

By the time morning came, Belle knew what she had to do. If she was ever to have any peace of mind, if her relationship with Robert was ever to stand a chance, she had to discuss this with him. She had to clear the air.

Belle rose with the sun and took only the time needed to shower and get herself ready for the day before she headed toward Gold’s Pawn Shop. There was no sense putting this off; doing so would only make her stew. Better to get it out of the way first thing.

Robert looked up as she walked in, bell above the door announcing her arrival. He smiled as he caught sight of her, stepping toward her and placing a kiss on her cheek. He could be so sweet; so attentive at times. Surely her fears were misplaced; _surely_ they were.

“Belle!” he said, “I didn’t expect you this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She was silent a beat too long, trying to figure out the best way to broach the topic at hand. He stepped back, really looking at her for the first time, his brow furrowing at what he saw.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. “You look quite troubled. Has the pirate done something to you?”

“What?” she asked, feeling suddenly even more off-kilter at the unexpected question.

“The man that came out of the book. Killian, wasn’t it?” he asked, his tone deliberately calm, almost as though it were a throwaway question.

“Oh no,” Belle rushed to assure, “Killian’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

“How is he?” Robert asked, looking aside and straightening a nearby display. “Any idea what he’s doing here?”

Belle didn’t know why, but this line of questioning about Killian made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was recent events that made her overly suspicious, but there seemed to be a nasty gleam in Robert’s eye. She’d probably best be cautious what she said about Killian for the time being.

“Oh, you know,” Belle said, doing her best to sound as though the issue didn’t matter, “he’s just trying to figure out this new world and how best to fit in here.”

“Any luck finding a way to send him home?”

Belle pasted on what she hoped was a convincingly confused expression. “Like I said, I think he’s trying to just make the best of his current situation.”

“Has he said anything about how he got into the book in the first place?” Robert asked.

He was trying to look casual, merely politely interested, but Belle could see through the act. In reality, Robert was desperately concerned with the answer to his question. The pit in Belle’s stomach widened more. Something was very, very wrong here.

“I don’t think he has any idea how he got in the book,” she answered carefully.

It wasn’t a lie, technically speaking. Killian _didn’t_ know the mechanics of how his “crocodile” managed to put him in the book. Still, it was time to put an end to this line of questioning.

“Actually Robert,” Belle said, reaching into her satchel and pulling out the history book, “I didn’t come here to talk about Killian. I wanted to ask you about something else.”

“Oh?” he asked, looking curiously down at the book she placed on his counter, “and what’s that?”

Belle took a moment to flip to the page in question and then pointed down at the picture. “I was going through some of our old books,” Belle said, “and I happened to find this picture. Robert, that’s _you_ in the picture, there in the background.”

If Robert had any reaction to the photo displayed before him, he didn’t show it. He simply peered down and then shrugged his shoulders before turning to face her. “Well they say everyone has someone out there who looks just like them. This gentleman must be mine. Quite a small world, isn’t it?”

 _He’s lying_. How she knew that, she couldn’t tell, but know it she did. Robert Gold was being evasive, and it only served to stoke her fears further.

“No, that’s not it,” she pressed. “Robert, that man doesn’t just look like you. He _is_ you! I’d know that cane and that ring anywhere. But this picture was taken some eighty years ago and you don’t look a bit different. How is any of this possible?”

For a moment, she thought he’d try to brush the situation aside again, but after a moment he sighed and then stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders in what he evidently thought was a comforting move.

“Well, I suppose there’s no use hiding it from you anymore,” he said. “I was going to have to explain it all to you soon anyway. I have set big plans in motion, after all, and I’d like nothing more than for you to be at my side.”

“What?” Belle asked. “What are you hiding?”

“Long, long ago,” Robert began, “I became a very powerful sorcerer called the Dark One.”

Belle’s heart began pounding as slowly but surely he told her everything. He told her of his humiliations, his taking the Dark One power, the prophecy about Killian being his undoing, his attempts to gain power through the centuries. Finally he told of the scheme he currently had in motion.

“You see,” Robert concluded, “I finally have the knowledge and the means to cleave myself from the dagger that tethers me once and for all. I finally have the opportunity to gain power beyond my wildest dreams with nothing to stop me. With the help of your pirate and a sleeping curse I’ve set for mass distribution, I’ll finally be free. And when that happens, I can fulfill your wildest dreams. I love you Belle, and soon we can have everything we’ve ever wanted. Together!”

As Robert continued speaking, Belle’s concern quickly morphed into fear and eventually terror. Robert was crazy and apparently completely sociopathic. Her worst fears of what this conversation might bring were not only realized, but they were far surpassed. If there were really such a thing as a super villain, the man standing before her was surely one.

One thought and one thought alone consumed Belle as she stood before Robert. She had to get out of this situation without him suspecting her horror. She didn’t _think_ he’d harm her, but how well did she really know this unhinged man standing before her?

“That’s quite the tale,” she said, pasting a smile on her face. “Do you think it’s really possible? Do you think you can cleave yourself from the dagger?”

He smiled nastily. “Not only do I think it, I know it, and my triumph-- _our_ triumph--is only a few days away.”

Belle forced herself to smile wider. “That’s wonderful!” she said “We’ll have to talk more about this later, make some plans for ourselves, but for the moment I have to get to the library. It’ll be time to open soon. Can’t be late.”

Robert leaned down and kissed her, and it was all she could do not to recoil from his touch. When he pulled back, smiled at her and wished her a good day, she breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she’d managed to convince him after all.

If Belle had seen the thunderous frown on Robert’s face as he watched her leave his shop and hurry down the street, she might have been far less reassured.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian didn’t say a word as Emma drove them back home midafternoon, but the tension radiated off him in waves.

Emma couldn’t blame him. The fact that the immortal psychopath who’d killed Killian’s love and trapped him in a book was not only still alive, but was living in her town, dating her best friend, was a lot to deal with. It kind of freaked her out if she was being honest; she couldn’t even imagine what Killian was feeling right now.

She parked along the curb in front of her apartment building, and the silence between them lasted as they walked up the stairs and stepped into her living room. Killian sat on the couch, hands clasped between his knees and head hanging low. Emma wished there was some way she could help him; some way she could comfort him. 

“Killian, please talk to me,” she said finally, after taking a seat by his side and taking one of his hands into her own. “Don’t shut me out.”

He squeezed her hand, finally looking over at her with a wistful smile. “I think I must leave here, Swan,” he said sadly. “I’ve lived a long life, a life I’ve not always had cause to be proud of. Perhaps being hunted by the crocodile is justice for my mistakes, but I will not put you and the lad in danger on my account.”

Emma felt as though cold water had been poured over her at the very suggestion of him leaving--part fear for his safety, part sadness that he dealt with such self-loathing, part wondering how she’d explain it to Henry.

Part wondering how she’d ever get over the pain of missing him.

What she had feared almost from the start had happened. She’d gotten attached to him. He’d not only broken down the walls around her heart, he’d stepped inside and taken up residence. She was smarter than this! How had she let it happen?

Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her own imminent heartbreak could wait. Right now she needed to focus on helping Killian.

“Okay, first of all, that’s total crap,” she said.

He looked up at her quickly, eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“It’s total crap,” she continued. “Look, you were a pirate; I’m sure you weren’t exactly a choir boy back then, but you _don’t_ deserve what Gold has done to you and what he probably wants to keep doing to you. No one does, and you--well, I can see you’re a good man with a good heart.”

He smiled gently and murmured his thanks.

“Second of all,” Emma said, “I mean, obviously I’m not forcing you to stay, but I hope you do. I think together--all of us, Belle included--we stand a lot better chance of finding out how to get you back home and how to stop Gold from his big super-villain plot to take over the world or whatever.”

“For my part,” Killian said, “the last thing I want is to leave here, but I cannot, I _will not_ be the cause of another person I care about being put in danger.”

“Person you care about?” Emma asked.

He scratched behind his ear, his cheeks going slightly red. “Aye,” he admitted. “You must know you and Henry have become important to me. If something were to happen to either one of you--”

“It won’t,” Emma hastened to reassure. “What happened to Milah, to you was--well it was a few million lightyears beyond messed up, and I get why you’d be afraid, but we have an advantage now. When Gold attacked Milah and you, he took you unaware. There was nothing you could have done to stop it; no way to prepare yourself for it. Now that we know he’s here, we know where he is, we can protect ourselves.”

“But to put the lad in danger--”

“No one,” Emma said with resolve, “and I mean _no one_ is going to harm my son while I’m around. Besides, knowing Henry, if we tried to exclude him from everything, he’d probably just sneak around to help us and get himself in more trouble than if we just included him in the first place.”

Killian chuckled. “Aye, that sounds like your lad.”

“He cares about you, Killian,” Emma said, “and it would devastate him if you left us any sooner than you have to.”

Killian’s expression changed, his eyes becoming intense. “Is Henry the only one?”

Her heart began to pound as she looked back at him, feeling every ounce of the longing she saw reflected in his eyes. He was going back to his own time as soon as they found a way; he had to, now more than ever. He had to find a way to stop his crocodile. It was a bad idea, a really, really bad idea, but if he didn’t stop looking at her like that, she was going to haul off and kiss him.

 _Well why not?_ She wondered to herself. Yeah, it was a bad idea, but after the emotions of this day, maybe they both needed to blow off some steam.

“No, he’s not the only one,” she whispered before grabbing his lapels and bringing his mouth down to hers.

He reacted immediately, groaning as he tilted his head for better access, cupping her head in his hand, opening his mouth for her. Emma met him kiss for kiss, caress for caress, putting every ounce of pent up emotion into the embrace.

He was a damn good kisser, making her simultaneously weak in the knees and full of adrenaline. For long moments she was lost in him, lost in the feel, the smell, the taste of him.

But finally reality came back to her in the form of her son’s key in the front door lock. Probably best he didn’t walk in on a scene that was becoming less kid-friendly by the moment.

She pulled back, resting her forehead against his.

“That was--” he began, voice breathy and absolutely wrecked.

“Yeah,” she answered, “but my kid’s gonna walk in any second, so we best cool it.”

He chuckled shakily, moving away, giving her space. “Quite bad form to traumatize the lad, I suppose, but Swan, I would not be at all opposed to continuing this, shall we say, _conversation_ , at a later time when the lad is not around.”

“Me neither.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Wow, this place is awesome!” Henry said as he settled into his chair next to Emma at Storybrooke’s one and only Italian restaurant. “Mom and I have been wanting to try it, but we just never did.”

“I’m glad it meets with your approval, lad,” Killian said with a smile as he pulled out a chair for Emma and then took his own seat across from her.

It had been quite a day. Between learning of the crocodile living in Storybrooke, right within Swan’s orbit, and the heart-pounding, emotional moment of passion on her living room couch, he almost felt as though his head were spinning.

His head may be spinning, but his heart--well, his heart felt as though it had finally found rest after centuries of turmoil. Aye, Milah would always, always be in his heart, but she’d also want him to be happy.

And with Emma and Henry he was happy.

With every passing day his feelings for his blonde savior and her son grew, and the truth that he barely could admit even to himself, was that a big part of him didn’t want to return to his own time.

He had to; he knew it, especially with the day’s revelations. He had to go back and stop Rumplestiltskin before he had the chance to destroy all the lives he’d destroyed through the centuries.

Still, he had every intention of making the most of every single moment he had with Emma and Henry.

He owed them more than he could ever say, and tonight he had finally found a way to repay them--at least in a very small part--for all the kindness they’d shown him. He’d ventured to the town bank and sold the mystified teller a handful of doubloons in exchange for modern currency, and then he’d offered to treat Emma and Henry to dinner.

Henry had been excited at the prospect, talking about how much he’d always wanted to try Bella Notte’s Italian restaurant. Seeing the enthusiasm on her son’s face, Emma had gratefully accepted Killian’s offer.

Killian found the dining experience to be exemplary. The company had something to do with it. The three of them talked and laughed and generally enjoyed spending time with each other.

Henry got excited when they told him what they’d found out about Robert Gold that day. Emma feared the news would scare her lad, but he was far more intrepid than that.

“This is amazing!” Henry said.

“Amazing isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” Emma said, grimacing. “Scary, disturbing, infuriating, those seem a bit better.”

“I mean, it’s not cool that Mr. Gold did bad things to Killian,” Henry said, “but this could be our big break! Maybe with him here, we can learn more about how to help Killian. We could call it, I don’t know, Operation Crocodile or something.”

“Don’t you dare go near him!” Emma said sternly. “Mr. Gold is a very dangerous man!”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything stupid mom.”

“Your mother’s right,” Killian said firmly. “I’m honored you wish to help me, but your safety must come first. Promise me you won’t put yourself into danger.”

Henry frowned. “You guys need to calm down. I said I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just think knowing more stuff about him means we’re closer to stopping him.”

The lad’s faith in them and their abilities was infectious. As they ordered their meals and then ate their salad course, the cloud of gloom that had settled upon Killian since the moment he’d glimpsed the photograph in the history book finally lifted. Perhaps the lad was right; perhaps they were destined to defeat the Dark One after all.

But never was that feeling stronger than the moment their entrees arrived.

“Ew, mom, what _is_ that?” Henry said, turning his nose up at the dish placed before her. “It’s _black_!”

Emma chuckled. “It’s called spaghetti al nero di seppia, and it’s supposed to be black. They make it with squid ink.”

Killian gasped, eyes widening as he turned quickly to look at her. “Pardon, love. Did you say _squid ink_?”

Her brows furrowed. “Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but it actually tastes good. Kind of briny and--”

“You have squid ink here?” He interrupted insistently.

“Well...yeah,” she answered. “Killian, what’s going on?”

“Swan,” he said, “it was squid ink the Dark One used to trap me. Perhaps squid ink is our key to sending me back.”

_Notes:_

_\--Up Next: Belle tells Emma and Killian what Gold told her. With their new knowledge, they have another breakthrough in their research. Meanwhile, Gold did not believe Belle as much as she thought he did, and he takes the next step in putting his plan into motion._


	6. Chapter 5

After dropping Henry off at school the next morning, Emma and Killian walked to the library, hands clasped, fingers interlocked. Emma felt such a mix of bittersweet emotions as they ambled together, chatting casually about anything and everything except the topic that most consumed them.

Killian leaving.

They’d studiously avoided discussing the situation ever since dinner last night when they discovered the squid ink. It was just too painful. Emma knew she couldn’t ask him to stay, no matter how much her heart was screaming at her to do just that. Gold had killed the woman Killian loved. What kind of a horrible human being would she be to try to keep him here when he could go back and stop that from happening?

Besides, more was at stake than just Killian’s love or Emma’s happiness. According to the prophecy, Killian needed the help of his True Love to defeat the Dark One. If he didn’t go back to Milah--his True Love--there would be no way to _ever_ defeat Gold, and that would affect countless generations of people through the years.

_What if Milah’s not his True Love?_ Emma’s inner voice demanded a bit petulantly. _What if I am? Would that really be so impossible to believe?_

Emma put the thought aside. No matter what her heart might be screaming at her, they’d only known each other a week. Even if she’d--stupidly--managed to fall in love, it was surely way too soon for him to have done so as well. And True Love--well, going by what Killian said about it--True Love was something special, magical, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. She’d never been special to anyone, except maybe Henry. She’d be a fool if she thought she’d be special to Killian.

No, she’d walk with him to the library where they’d continue their search, buoyed with their breakthrough, and when the time came, she’d paste a smile on her face and wish him well as he walked out of her life forever.

Emma took a deep breath as she felt the tears threaten. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. She _wasn’t_.

“Swan, is something the matter?” he asked.

She looked up to see such tenderness, such concern in his face, that it brought the tears even closer to the surface. She swallowed them back with a herculean effort of the will, instead donning what she hoped was a convincing smile.

“Nope,” she lied. “Everything’s fine. I was just thinking about all we still have to figure out about sending you back.”

By his furrowed brow, it was clear Killian wasn’t buying her brave act. By the look of sadness in his eyes, it was clear he shared her conflicting feelings. Rather than pushing the topic, he nodded and then turned back to face forward, the only concession he made to the emotions between them a slight tightening of his hand around hers.

“Aye,” he said, “we’ve still a fair bit of work ahead of us, but last night’s discovery moved us forward by leaps and bounds.

Ever the gentleman, Killian opened the library door and ushered her inside.

“Perhaps with our new information, Belle will know better where to look,” he finished.

“Maybe.”

Emma tossed her coat on the coatrack and then turned to greet Belle, but the words died on her lips at the sight before her. Belle sat at her accustomed seat behind the circulation counter, a mountain of dusty old books before her. The woman was completely disheveled, her hair askew and falling out of the barrette she’d pulled up the sides with. She looked as though she’d been crying, her makeup uneven and blotchy, her mascara badly smudged. She had an intent, almost frantic look on her face.

“Belle!” Emma exclaimed, rushing to her with Killian at her heels.

“What’s the matter, love?” Killian asked, putting aside the book she’d been looking through, and turning her to face them. “What’s happened?”

Belle looked up at him, and the tears filled her eyes once more. “You were right, Killian, about everything,” she said. “Robert really is a monster.”

“Belle, tell me you didn’t confront him on your own!” Emma said.

“I’m afraid I did,” Belle confirmed, “and he--and he--”

“He what?” Killian thundered. “I swear if that bastard laid a finger on another woman he claims to love, I’ll--”

“No, nothing like that,” Belle hastened to reassure. “He didn’t hurt me; I don’t think he would, but he did admit everything to me.”

“Everything?” Emma asked skeptically. “He told you his whole big villain master plan?”

“I couldn’t believe it either!” Belle answered. “My only explanation is that he’s gone utterly mad. He seemed to think I’d be happy about it; that I’d join him. I’m pretty sure I convinced him I was on board, but I don’t know.”

Killian looked grim. “Love, please promise me you won’t go to him alone again. He’s not only evil, he’s also cunning. He’s got a kind, honest soul like yourself far outflanked in the ways of deception.”

“I promise,” Belle said, “but as it turns out, my encounter with Robert this morning was not without its usefulness. I now know what Robert’s planning, and I know the basics of how he’s planning it. That’s got to give us something of an advantage.”

Emma took a seat beside Belle and glanced at the top book on the pile before her entitled Secrets of the Occult. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to regret asking this, but what is Gold’s big master plan?”

“He wants to cleave himself from the Dark One dagger, the only limit to his power. He has an object, a hat, that can do the job, but only at midnight on the night of the full moon. He also said something about a mass sleeping curse that he plans to use to put the world to sleep and allow him to smoothly and effortlessly take over first Storybrooke and then the world.”

“The full moon?” Emma said, “but that’s tonight!”

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there, love?” Killian asked quietly.

“I’m afraid so,” Belle said, giving him a sympathetic look. “He’s never been able to cleave himself from the dagger before because he was missing one important ingredient: your blood.”

“Over my dead body!” Emma shouted. “If Gold thinks for a minute that I’d let him near Killian’s blood, he’s crazy!”

“I have no intention of letting him take it either,” Belle said, “but the only way I can think to stop him is to send Killian back before Robert has a chance to enact his spell.”

“I mean no offense, love,” Killian said, “but we’ve been searching for a week with no success. Swan and I had a bit of a breakthrough last night, but we’re still no closer to discovering the mechanics of time travel than we were when we started. What hope do we have of discovering the solution before midnight tonight?”

Belle tapped the pile of books before her. “That’s where Robert might have actually helped us. We’ve been looking through books of history and physics and quantum mechanics and that sort of thing. Now that I know what Robert’s planning, I think we were looking in the wrong direction. I think we should be studying magic and the occult instead.”

And study they did--for long hours--all day. Finally around mid-afternoon, they got their big breakthrough.

“I found it!” Belle exclaimed, getting quickly to her feet. “I found the spell Robert used to trap you in the book, and more importantly, I found it’s reverse!”

Emma and Killian quickly joined her, looking where she was pointing.

“What does it say?” Emma asked, noticing that it was written in a foreign language--looked like Latin or something.

“It says the spell can be reversed at midnight on the night of the full moon,” Belle said. “We need the magical substance Robert used to cast the curse, we need the item it was written in, and we need this spell here. We already have your journal, Killian, and we have the spell. Any ideas on getting the magical substance?”

Killian smiled broadly. “As it happens, that’s the breakthrough Swan and I had last night. It was squid ink the crocodile used to trap me, and squid ink can be found in the dining establishment we patronized last night.”

“Perfect!” Belle said, her excitement nearly palpable. “So all we have to do is write the poem in question in squid ink and say this incantation, and you’ll be able to go back!”

“What’s more,” Killian said, “squid ink is said to have powerful magical properties. It has the power to freeze the Dark One! It may be the key to stopping him altogether!”

Emma listened to the conversation before her silently, her heart plummeting. Finding a way to defeat Gold was a good thing, there was no doubt about that, but it was all happening too fast. They’d need to cast the spell to send Killian back tonight. She wasn’t ready!

And how was she going to break the news to Henry?

But Killian seemed to be quite excited at the prospect before him, and Emma ruthlessly pushed her pain aside. There would be time to grieve his loss later. Right now, she had to support him, help him, give him what his heart truly desired.

“This is great, Killian,” Emma said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “You’ll be able to go back and stop the Dark One before he kills Milah! You two’ll be reunited!”

“About that,” Belle said tentatively. “Killian, I am so sorry, but every resource on time travel I’ve searched through has been crystal clear about one thing. One cannot go to a period in time when he previously existed. Having two versions of oneself in the same timeline would rupture the time space continuum and cause untold, cataclysmic damage. I’m afraid the soonest we can possibly send you back is the moment _after_ Rumple trapped you in the book.”

Killian took a deep breath, anguish clear in his eyes. “I can’t save her?”

Emma took his hand, willing him strength and comfort.

“I’m sorry Killian, I truly am,” Belle said, “but no. You can’t save her. I’m afraid she’s gone.”

Killian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For long moments he merely sat there, letting the painful truth sink in. Finally, he squeezed Emma’s hand, sat up straight, and faced Belle head on.

“Very well,” he said, “if I cannot save Milah, I wish to stay here with Swan and her lad. If squid ink can be used to trap the crocodile in the past, then it can work in the present.” 

Emma’s heart leaped at Killian’s words. He spoke confidently without a hint of hesitation. He _wanted_ to be with her and Henry. He _chose_ her. It was overwhelming. His actions over the past few days made her think he dreaded their parting, but that was the thing about having a rough childhood.

Wounds made in childhood tended to linger.

Emma doubted she’d ever be able to fully silence the insidious little voice in the back of her mind that told her she was nothing but a lost girl who didn’t matter to anyone and never would. To have Killian state so clearly that he wanted to stay with her made her so happy, she couldn’t have wiped the smile off her face if she tried.

Unfortunately, her joy was to be short lived. Killian had barely finished speaking before Belle began shaking her head again. “Killian, I wish you could; I really do. I’ve seen how good you’ve been for both Emma and Henry, and Lord knows they deserve it, but I’m afraid that isn’t an option.”

“Why not?” Emma burst out, more harshly than she should have if the way Belle reared back was anything to go by. She didn’t care. “Why can’t he stay with us? He deserves to have happiness and peace every bit as much as Henry and I do!”

Belle reached over and covered her free hand with her own. “Emma, I’m sure that’s true. It’s not a matter of whether or not he deserves it. It’s a matter of defeating Robert.”

“You don’t believe I possess the ability to defeat him here, love?” Killian asked quietly.

“Killian,” Belle said gently, “it’s not that I doubt your resolve or your strength. It’s just that Robert has had nearly three centuries to hone his skill and amass his power since you last faced him in your own time. Facing him back then will be difficult, but facing him now would be nearly impossible. For all we know, he might have found a way to inoculate himself against squid ink.”

It was selfish, she knew it was, but part of Emma--a really big part--wanted Killian to insist on staying with her anyway, but if she’d learned anything about Killian, it was that he was noble to a fault. He’d put his own best interest aside if he felt it was the right thing to do.

And so he did. Emma saw him wilt there in front of her, his shoulders hunching and his face showing nothing so much as defeat. He turned toward her, taking both of her hands in his.

“Swan,” he began sadly.

“You don’t have to say it,” she interrupted. “I know you, Killian. I know you have to go back.”

“If it was up to me, if it was just about me, I’d stay in a heartbeat,” he assured.

“I know,” she answered, feeling the tears threaten once again, “and I wish that you could. More than just about anything, but I get it.”

“I cannot be the cause of Rumplestiltskin gaining absolute power, not if I can stop it.”

Emma hugged him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I know,” she mumbled “We’ll miss you like crazy, but I know you have to go.”

For several moments they merely held each other, hating what had to be done, but knowing there was no other choice. Finally Belle cleared her throat.

“I know you’ll want to spend as much time together as you can before full moon tonight,” Belle said, “but we still have some things to prepare first. We’ve still got to get the squid ink, for one thing.”

Emma glanced at her watch, noting Henry’s school would be letting out soon. She took a deep breath and stepped away from Killian. “I’ve got to go pick up Henry,” she said. “How about you two go and get the ink while I pick him up? It’s probably best if I break the news alone about Killian leaving today.”

“If that’s what you prefer, love,” Killian said.

“We’ll meet you back at the apartment,” Emma said, “and then we’ll spend the evening together.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rumplestiltskin frowned as he peered down into his crystal ball in the back room of his shop. He watched as Miss Swan left the library, and then Belle and the pirate followed suit.

He wanted to destroy something, to choke the life from those who threatened to derail him when he was so close to reaching his goals.

But Rumple was nothing if not resourceful, and he had never been so glad that he was.

When Belle had come to him this morning asking about the photo in the history book, he’d known he had to tread carefully. Her sentimentality and her overdeveloped conscience made her weak. Under normal circumstances, Rumple was more than willing to humor her weakness, but this was no normal circumstance.

Everything Rumple had worked for his entire life hung in the balance. Regardless of the affection he held for Belle, he would not risk his plan for her.

Accordingly, he’d put into motion a contingency plan he’d had in place since the first date he’d had with Belle. Under the guise of kissing her goodbye, he’d enchanted her with a magical tracking spell. Henceforth, he was able to keep track of her, her movements, the conversations she had, the people she met, and any other pertinent information. All he needed to do was watch her in his crystal ball.

So it was that he watched, his anger growing by leaps and bounds, as Belle told Miss Swan and the pirate everything, _everything_. But Rumple didn’t get where he was today by giving into his anger. He was far shrewder than that. 

He pushed his anger aside for the moment; there would be plenty of time to punish Belle for her betrayal later. For now, he must focus on thwarting their own schemes.

As Rumple sat back and the crystal went dark once again, he began to formulate a plan. Grinning nastily, Rumple grabbed his cane and stepped out his front door. He knew precisely how to bring the pirate to his knees, and he would greatly enjoy doing it.

~*~*~*~*~

Bella Notte Italian Restaurant was only a few blocks from the library, and it was a beautiful day, so Belle and Killian decided to go on foot. They were largely silent at first, as Killian seemed to be deep in his melancholy thoughts. Belle wished more than anything that things were different, that they could find some way, _any_ way to stop Robert that didn’t involve Killian having to leave.

She’d been friends with Emma for years now, ever since Henry was a toddler, and she’d never seen her friend so happy, so carefree, so open. Killian was _good_ for Emma, and Henry clearly adored him. In a just world, they’d be able to explore this connection they had. They’d be able to date, maybe get married, maybe give Henry a sibling or two. They’d be so happy together.

But this wasn’t a just world, and that was all due to her horrible ex-boyfriend Robert Gold. Belle felt sick thinking she’d spent the last few months with such a monster, and she felt stupid for never seeing him for who he truly was. Maybe if she’d been a better judge of character Emma and Killian wouldn’t be in the situation they were in.

“You do know none of this is your fault, love, don’t you?” Killian asked.

Belle cast him a startled glance. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

He chuckled. “Well I am quite perceptive, and in the week we’ve known each other I’ve seen your character and good heart.”

She smiled. “I appreciate you saying that, Killian, but I can’t help feeling stupid. How could I so badly miss seeing who he really is?”

“I’ve had the misfortune of knowing Rumplestitskin for centuries,” Killian said, “and I know the full extent of his perfidy, but that’s simply because he never attempted to hide it from me. The man you know as Robert Gold has spent centuries honing his technique, and he’s become a master manipulator. He can read people, see who they are deep down, what they want, and he uses it to his own advantage. Many a clever person has been taken in by him, and I can assure you, you are anything but stupid.”

Belle sighed, her heart hurting. “Is it bad that even now, knowing exactly who he is, a part of me wants to find some sort of reasonable explanation so that we can be together again?”

Killian cast her a sympathetic glance. “You cared for him, lass,” he said. “It’s only natural your heart should be broken when things fall apart, no matter how much of a bastard he is and always has been.”

“I suppose so,” Belle said, “but I want you to be assured, I’ve picked a side. It doesn’t matter what he does or says from here on out. I can never be with him again, and I’ll never betray either you or Emma.”

“Thank you.”

They fell silent for another moment as Belle tried to figure out how to word what she wanted to say next.

“She loves you, you know,” she finally settled on. “Both she and Henry. They love you.”

He smiled sadly. “Aye, and I love them too. That’s what makes all of this so difficult.”

“Hold that knowledge in your heart, Killian,” Belle said, “the knowledge that you have a wonderful woman and her son who love you--or, I guess _will_ love you, as the case may be--and that won’t change, no matter how long or how far you are away.”

Killian sighed. “I’d go to the end of the world for her, or time.”

There was really nothing to be said about that, as much as Belle wished otherwise, and so she remained silent.

Their business at the restaurant was completed within minutes. The owner of the establishment had been more than a little bit confused about their odd request to buy a pint of squid ink, but as Killian was willing to pay handsomely, he merely shrugged his shoulders and made the sale.

Belle’s cell phone began ringing as they left the restaurant and began heading back to the library. Looking down at the caller ID, Belle’s face paled and she felt her blood run cold.

“What’s the matter, love?” Killian asked.

She held the cell phone up so he could see. “It’s Robert.”

Killian tensed at the mention of his adversary, but nodded grimly. “Whatever it is he wants, I’m here if you need me.”

Belle smiled up at him, took a deep breath, and touched the screen to accept the call.

“Robert, what a nice surprise,” she said, praying he didn’t pick up on just how false her enthusiasm was.

“You can save the pleasantries, Dearie,” he said, “and put me on speaker phone. I know the pirate is with you, and he’s going to want to hear this as well.”

Belle felt a shiver go down her spine at his cold tone and harsh words. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She couldn’t have said a word if her life depended on it. Instead, she silently did as Robert asked, putting the phone on speaker.

“Well?” Robert growled, “are you going to do as I ask or not? The pirate needs to hear this.”

“I’m here, crocodile,” Killian spat out.

Robert chuckled, a high pitched, manic sound that turned Belle’s blood to ice.

“Did you really think you could double cross me, pirate?” he asked. “Did you really think I’d let you get away with your plan to defeat me in the past?”

“It’s my destiny to destroy you,” Killian said, “and that’s what I’ll do, no matter what I’m forced to give up to do it.”

“No matter what?” Robert asked “Tell me, Captain Jones, are you willing to give up Miss Swan and young Master Henry?”

Killian balled his hands into fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “Your taunts have no effect on my decisions. The pain of leaving them here will all be worth it when I’ve destroyed you and ensured you can never hurt them--or anyone else--again.”

Robert laughed nastily. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Dearie,” he said. “You see, saying goodbye to you is the least of their worries right now. Instead, I’d wager they’ve more immediate concerns--such as what I plan to do with them now that I’ve so helpfully picked them up from school.”

For a moment, Belle’s vision swam, and she feared she’d faint. 

“If you touch a hair on either of their heads I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” Killian thundered.

“Come, come,” Robert said, “there’s no need for such theatrics. They’re both perfectly safe for now, and they’ll remain that way as long as you do precisely what I ask.”

“Don’t do it, Killian!” Emma said, sound muffled, as though she’d been gagged, albeit inexpertly. “Don’t listen’t to him!”

Killian paled, before a look of such rage and loathing as Belle had never seen came over his face. “What do you want?”

“You,” Robert said, “or rather your blood. Bring it and the squid ink you just purchased to the lake in one hour and you’ll get them back. If not--well, I suspect you will not like the results of your failure.”

_Notes:_

_\--One last cliffhanger for you all! (You’re welcome, hehe.)_

_\--Up next: It’s the last chapter before the epilogue. We have the big showdown between Rumple and Killian at the lake. (This is the lake, by the way, that in canon is the entrance to the Underworld, and the place where Emma was forced to kill Killian. Should you read anything into that connection? Who knows? I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.) It’s possible this next chapter will be shorter, but it will definitely not be light on action or suspense!_


	7. Chapter 6

“I swear, Gold, if you even _look_ at my son the wrong way, you’re going to regret the day you were born,” Emma gritted out, continuing to rub her wrists together behind her back, hoping to find a weak spot in the rope Gold had used to tie her up.

He laughed nastily. “Perhaps your threats would scare me, Miss Swan, if you weren’t currently tied up and if I weren’t a nearly unstoppably powerful wizard.”

“I don’t care,” she said, maneuvering herself with difficulty so that she was shielding Henry. “If you hurt him, I’ll find a way to murder you with my bare hands.”

He tsked and shook his head. “Such violence. What kind of example _are_ you setting for your son?”

White hot rage filled her, pushing out all fear, caution or common sense. Forgetting the fact that she was bound hand and foot, she tried to stand--only to topple over onto the grass in front of the lake where Gold had brought them.

He laughed again. “Miss Swan, you’ve got to learn to control that temper. It’ll get you in trouble one day. In any case, neither you nor your boy have anything to fear from me provided your cowardly pirate shows up and gives me what I want.”

The anger settled back into fear and helplessness. What was she going to _do_? It was the question she’d been asking herself since she’d arrived at Henry’s school half an hour ago.

She’d been preoccupied when she pulled into the school parking lot, her mind a confusing bittersweet jumble. On the one hand, she and Henry had a whole evening and night to spend with Killian making memories that would have to last a lifetime. On the other hand, at the end of the night, they’d have to say goodbye to him forever.

How do you fit an entire lifetime into a handful of hours? How do you stay strong for your son when the man you love is about to be taken from you?

Emma blamed her momentary inattention on the overwhelming emotions she was feeling, but it was that momentary inattention that proved to be her undoing. 

She hadn’t even noticed them approaching until Robert freaking Gold tapped on her driver’s side window with the handle of his cane.

Startled, she’d looked over and her blood had run cold. There stood Gold, a malicious smile on his face and a pistol trained on her crying son.

Emma doubted she’d ever been so terrified in her life as she was at that moment. Not thinking, only running on a mother’s instinct, Emma had jumped out of the car and lunged toward the man who dared threaten her child.

“Ah, ah, ah, Miss Swan,” he’d said in greeting, “I’d hate to have to pull the trigger. Not another step!”

She’d stopped on a dime, casting another glance at her son. “Henry, it’s going to be okay,” she said, “I promise. Just be the brave kid I know you are.”

He’d nodded at her, seeming to calm down a bit at her words.

“What is it you want?” she’d asked, turning back to Gold.

“That’d be telling,” he’d answered with a grin. “All you need to know right now is that if you do exactly as I say, both you and Henry _might_ just walk away from this.”

She’d followed his directions; he’d given her no choice. Gold had ushered her to the passenger seat of her car, tied her wrists behind her back, quickly gagged her, and done the same to Henry. He’d then driven them out to the lake, bound their ankles and made a ransom call of sorts to Killian.

And so here they were, waiting. 

There had to be some way to stop what was about to happen; there _had_ to be. They couldn’t let Gold get the ingredients he needed, couldn’t let him cast his sleeping curse and cleave himself from the dagger. To do so would be to damn millions of people all over the world to whatever sick, twisted hell Gold had planned for them.

Yet if she did anything to try to stop it, she’d be in effect sacrificing Henry, and that was absolutely out of the question.

It seemed that no matter what route she took, one of the two guys Emma loved most in the world would be destroyed.

If there’s one thing life and death crises do, it’s to make a person see what’s really most important, and if there was any doubt before, now that doubt was completely eradicated. She loved Killian, really, truly loved him. The thought of him going back in time and walking out of her life hurt like hell, but it was nothing to the thought of Gold hurting him--or worse.

She had to come up with a plan before it was too late.

Five minutes later, Killian and Belle pulled up and came sprinting toward them at the lake, and Emma’s heart sunk. She’d run out of time.

Killian ran to her immediately, putting one hand on her shoulder and the other on Henry’s. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine for now,” Emma reassured. “He hasn’t hurt us.”

Meanwhile Belle rushed toward Gold.

“Don’t do this Robert!” Belle pleaded, taking his hand. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Oh, but I do, Belle,” he said. “This is the only way I can be sure no one can stop me. This is the only way I can get the power I need.”

“You don’t need more power,” Belle said, tears streaming down her face. “I was falling in love with you Robert! Maybe I can again. We could be happy together, but not if you do this!”

“I can never be happy until I get rid of the threats against me and the life I’ve worked so hard to create,” he said, voice calm, “so I ask you. Are you with me or against me?”

Belle took a deep breath and stepped back. Emma saw the fear in her eyes, but also the resolve. “I’m sorry Robert, but if you do this, you’ve lost me forever.”

Gold growled in frustration and waved his hand. Belle was knocked back, and the next thing they knew, she was buried to the waist in the ground. “Then I’ve lost you,” Rumple said, “but you will stay here and watch what’s about to happen.”

Killian stepped forward, placing himself between Emma and Henry and Gold, drawing his attention from Belle.

“Let them go, Crocodile,” he growled. “Let them all go. It’s me you need, not them! I only ask that you give me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

Gold shrugged. “We’ve still several hours until midnight. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you a moment.”

Turning back toward them, Killian first knelt at Henry’s side, taking the boy into his arms to give him a bracing hug.

“Killian!” Henry said, beginning to cry again. “I don’t want anything to happen to you! Don’t let him hurt you!”

Emma felt the first tears slide down her own face at the agony in her son’s voice.

“Do you remember the tales of bravery and valor I told you, lad?” Killian asked.

Henry nodded.

“I need you to be brave and strong like those heroes,” Killian said. “Take care of your mum. Can you do that?”

Henry nodded. “I love you, Killian.”

Killian cupped the back of Henry’s head. “I love you too, lad.”

When Killian turned to Emma, she felt as though her heart was shattering. “Please don’t do this Killian. Please don’t sacrifice yourself.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently. “Swan, you know I must. I couldn’t live with myself if I let him harm you, and neither of us could live with ourselves if something were to happen to Henry.”

He was right; she knew he was, but it didn’t make what was about to happen any easier.

“Swan,” he said, “I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah, to believe that I could find someone else. That is until I met you.”

The tears began to fall so hard and fast Emma could barely see. “Killian,” she ground out, “there’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

He smiled gently, cupping her face and wiping her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Good,” he said, before leaning down to give her a long, slow kiss, a gesture of love, a last goodbye.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before getting to his feet and turning back toward Gold, his eyes flashing and his jaw clenching. “Get on with it, Dark One.”

Gold held out his hand. “The squid ink, if you please.”

Rather than simply hand the ink over, Killian uncorked the stopper and shook the contents toward Gold. For a heartbeat Emma dared to hope it would work.

That hope was short lived.

Killian had no sooner uncorked the bottle then Gold raised his hand, stopping the thick, dark liquid in its tracks and then forcing it back within the bottle.

“That was not part of the deal, Dearie!” Gold shouted.

“I don’t recall making a deal,” Killian countered, “and if you thought I’d meekly acquiesce to your requests without fighting back, you don’t know me at all, Crocodile.”

Gold raised his hand once again, and Killian began gasping and clutching at his throat as Gold began magically choking him. Emma struggled so hard against her bonds her wrists began to bleed, but it was all to no effect. If she had to guess, Gold had reinforced the ropes with magic to make them unbreakable.

“I can’t kill you, pirate,” Gold said before dropping his hand and letting Killian free, “not yet anyway, but I can make this extremely unpleasant. The next trick you try to play, it won’t be you who feels my wrath. It’ll be Miss Swan or her brat. So what will it be? Will you stick to the bargain or do I start again with the choking?”

Killian looked wound tight enough to break, and for a moment he was silent. Finally he held out the bottle of squid ink. “I’ll do as you ask,” Killian gritted out.

“Excellent,” Gold said cheerfully. “And now the blood.”

Killian stood tall and proud. “Get on with it then.”

Behind her, Henry whimpered, and Emma maneuvered him so he could bury his face in her shoulder. He shouldn’t have to see this.

She, however, couldn’t look away.

Gold waved his hand in a come hither gesture, and Killian flew through the air until he stood at Gold’s side. Belle began pleading again, begging her ex-boyfriend to show leniency. Gold ignored her.

Pulling a long, wavy dagger out of his suit jacket, Gold grabbed Killian’s hand and brought the dagger down, cutting a long, jagged slice across Killian’s palm. Killian hissed in pain, but otherwise remained silent as Rumple turned the palm over, dripping several drops of blood onto a small, circular box he’d set on a rock.

For a long moment, nothing happened, and then the box dissolved into a large sorcerer’s hat that began floating in the air as it grew in size and began whirling. 

Gold smiled in triumph, but Emma felt utterly off-kilter. That was it? Rumple had gone through all that pageantry for a simple cut to Killian’s hand?

From the look on his face, Killian was equally confused. “What? No attempt to kill me, Dark One?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Gold chuckled. “I want you to watch me attain my greatest triumph. Afterwards, there will be plenty of time to see to your demise.”

For the first time all afternoon, Emma began to feel hope. Maybe they’d all survive this after all! If they survived, they could find a way to stop Gold. For the first time they had a chance!

“Let them go, then,” Killian insisted, turning to look at Emma and Henry. “You got what you need; they’re of no use to you anymore.”

“I could do that,” Gold said, waving his hand and making the ropes around their hands and feet disappear, “but as it happens, after making my potion for mass distribution, I find I have an extra dose of sleeping potion burning a hole in my pocket, and it would be a shame to waste it.”

It felt like it happened in slow motion. Gold waved his hand and a syringe filled with greenish liquid appeared in the air and came hurtling straight toward her.

“No!” Killian shouted, lunging forward, placing himself in between her and the curse. With a thud, syringe made contact…and then promptly bounced off of Killian. Rather than drop harmlessly to the ground, it stopped, reversed course and then hurtled toward Gold with the force of a bullet.

This time it met its mark, the needle burying deeply into Gold’s neck and then emptying it’s contents directly into the jugular.

Gold stood still for a moment, eyes widened comically, and then he fell to the ground still and utterly silent.

It was over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For a moment, Killian scarcely knew what happened. He'd acted without thought, purely on instinct, shielding Emma and Henry with his own body.

What transpired next defied logic, but he would hardly complain. He was safe and well, and more importantly, so were the two people he loved most. Somehow, they'd all come out of the confrontation unscathed.

Well, mostly unscathed he thought to himself, shaking his hand at the sting of the wound on his palm.

"Killian?" Swan asked, concern in her voice, "are you okay?"

"Aye love," he said, turning to find both Emma and Henry rushing toward him. "Right as rain."

Henry reached him first, the weight of his small body knocking him over with the force of his hug. Swan joined them a moment later, peppering kisses over his face until he laughed with glee.

"How?" She asked between kisses, "how are you okay? How did you--? You know what? I don't care. I'm just glad you're okay!"

"Not as glad as I am that the two of you are," Killian said, hugging both of them to him before they all scrambled to their feet.

"Not all of us are, apparently," Emma said, voice hard as she looked over at a motionless Rumplestiltskin. "What happened to him? Is he dead."

Belle had been freed from the ground as soon as Rumple fell, and she'd gone to him, sadness covering her face.

"No," she said, wiping at her damp cheeks. "It appears he was put under the very sleeping curse he tried to put you under, Emma."

"What's gonna happen when he wakes up?" Henry asked fearfully. "Will he try to hurt us or Killian again?"

"You won't have to worry about that, Henry," Belle said. "The only thing that can wake someone from a sleeping curse is a True Love's Kiss, and Robert loved no one on earth as much as he loved his power and control. I'm afraid he condemned himself to a fate worse than death, being trapped in a burning netherworld for all of eternity."

"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person," Emma murmured under her breath.

Killian laughed, putting an arm around Emma's shoulders and hugging her to himself. "I couldn't agree more, love."

"Don't get me wrong," Emma said. "I'm more than glad things turned out this way, but how did that happen? Why didn't the syringe hit Killian? How’d it hit Gold instead?"

Belle took one last sad look at Rumple and then got up, turned her back on him and faced them. "It was the prophecy, Emma," she said. "Killian was destined to destroy him."

"Yeah!" Henry said excitedly, "with his true love! That must be you, Mom!"

Killian turned quickly toward her, his heart pounding and joy filling his heart. He saw his own joy reflected in her eyes.

_Could it be?_

"He's right," Belle confirmed. "Killian, when you stepped in front of the curse to protect Emma, that was an act of True Love, and the fact that it worked can only mean that she reciprocates those feelings."

"Is it true?" Emma asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You love me?"

"Aye," he confirmed, cupping her face with his good hand. "More than anything."

"I love you too," Emma said, before surging forward and taking his lips with her own.

It seemed as though the kiss had only just begun when they were interrupted by a very disgusted, "Ew, gross!" from Henry.

Belle laughed. "Henry," she said, "I think you'd better get used to being grossed out like that. My suspicion is that it’s going to be happening a lot."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Several hours later, Emma and Killian sat snuggled together on her couch. After all the excitement of the afternoon, the three of them had returned to her apartment and Emma had bandaged Killian's palm. The cut had been reasonably deep, and Emma had argued that he should probably go to the ER for stitches, but he had flatly refused, showing more than a little suspicion when she described the ways of modern medicine. She'd finally agreed to administer first aid herself, dousing the cut with hydrogen peroxide and winding a bandage around it.

( _Bloody hell! What IS that?_ he'd asked suspiciously. 

_Stop being a baby and let me take care of you,_ she'd responded without heat. 

_In case you haven't noticed love, I'm hardly a baby_ , he said with an exaggerated flirtatious wink that made the heat rush to her cheeks. 

_Ugh! Are you two going to start kissing again?_ Henry asked with a side-eyed glance.)

They'd spent the rest of the evening together, ordering dinner in and then playing family games. (Killian cheated, but then what else would you expect of a pirate?)

Henry had been reluctant to go to bed at the end of the evening, but he'd agreed without much fuss when Killian had offered to tell him a story. 

After Henry went to bed, Emma and Killian sat together cuddling, holding hands and engaging in long slow make out sessions that would have had Henry making exaggerated gagging sounds were he there to see it.

It all was beautiful and wonderful and perfectly domestic, and it wasn't until Emma glanced up at the clock that she started to worry.

 _Five minute til midnight_.

Emma didn't _think_ Killian would choose to use the spell and go back to his own time, but a part of her feared he would. It was his home, after all. As much as it hurt to do so, she had to give him the option.

"Killian," she said, pulling away from him and trying her best to keep her voice steady. "It's almost midnight."

He glanced over at the clock on her wall. "So it is. What of it, love?"

"We can--we can do the spell if you want," she said. "You deserve your happy ending. You deserve to go home."

Without a word, Killian got to his feet and retrieved the pint of squid ink from his duster, and Emma's heart sank.

_No! He can't be leaving! He can't!_

Instead of coming back to her--and to the journal that sat beside her on the coffee table--he headed to the kitchen. Curious, she followed. Unstoppering the bottle with his teeth, he poured it's entire contents down her kitchen sink, then he turned back to her with a tender smile.

"I _am_ home," he said, "and I've already found my happy ending."

"If you've already found your happy ending, what is it?" She asked, barely above a whisper.

He took the last step to close the distance between them. "Don't you know, Emma? It's you."

Emma leaned forward and kissed him as a single tear of perfect happiness traced its way down her cheek.

_Notes:_

_\--Well there you go! Rumple's defeated and cursed to a fate worse than death (good riddance!) and Emma and Killian (and Henry) plan to live out their happily ever after together._

_\--All that's left is a fluffy epilogue!_


	8. Epilogue

_Six months later_

Belle took a deep breath as she walked past the hospital on her way to work. After that awful afternoon when Robert had attempted to destroy Killian and Emma and take over the world, decisions had to be made about what to do with him. Stuck in a sleeping curse as he was, there was no hope of him ever regaining consciousness, and so it fell on his loved ones to decide how he was to spend the rest of his life.

For an immortal being, the rest of his life was a long time.

As the closest thing to a loved one that Robert had, the decision had fallen to Belle. After some deliberation and consultation with her friends and the doctors at the local hospital, Belle had decided the best place for Rumple was the old mental asylum in the basement of the hospital.

It was a dreary, depressing place, more prison than hospital, but it wasn’t as though Robert would even be aware of his surroundings.

Plus, Belle’s more vindictive side told her he deserved no better.

Robert’s mansion and possessions had been sold at an estate sale, and the proceeds had gone to pay for his upkeep in the asylum. The money would last for the next several decades. After that--well, after that it would no longer be Belle’s problem to deal with.

The weeks after Robert’s defeat had been difficult for Belle. She knew she was better off without him, knew she’d dodged a bullet finding out his true nature before things had gotten too serious. There was no doubt that regardless of what had happened that day, their relationship was over. There was no way she’d _ever_ go back to him.

Still, logic and convictions don’t automatically make feelings go away. She spent many a sleepless night wishing for what might have been, wishing Robert had been that good man she’d thought him to be. To discover that the beast was nothing more than a beast hurt. She wrestled with regret, with loneliness, with shame over what she felt was her own stupidity at not seeing the truth.

And so she lived with the burden of a relationship that had fantastically gone up in flames.

But all was not terrible in her life. She had good friends--Emma and Killian, of course, but also Ruby and Granny, who’d more than once offered her a free meal, a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

And then there was Graham.

In the early days after the accident, Sheriff Graham Humbert had worked closely with Belle, interviewing her many times, along with Emma and Killian, to determine just what had happened, just what Robert had been planning. The existence of magic, time travel, and magical sleeping curses had been rather hard for the down-to-earth sheriff to swallow, at first, but faced with the fact that there was no other explanation for what had happened, he’d finally come around.

The formal interviews had gradually turned into casual conversation, and the casual conversation had turned into deep, meaningful discussions about thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams.

Graham was an excellent listener, and his calm, sympathetic words had more than once served as a balm to her wounded spirit. As the months passed, gradually Belle began to take note of just how handsome he was and how kind. One night, as they talked over tea, he smiled at her, and the butterflies danced in her stomach.

He noticed her reaction, she could tell right away by his quick intake of breath and the way his eyes rounded. Belle felt her cheeks burn, and she looked aside, embarrassed that she’d been so transparent, but he hadn’t let her hide. Instead, he turned her to look at him, his hand infinitely tender. He waited until she met his eyes, and then he leaned in and kissed her.

They’d been dating ever since, and though a part of her would probably always feel a pang about how things had ended with Robert, she was happy. Graham was kind, patient, loving, and best of all _honest_. There was no guile, no deceit with him. She knew she could give him her heart and trust him to treasure it. She knew there would never come a day when she found out he’d been living a lie and was concocting an elaborate plot to take over the world.

It was refreshing and it was beautiful.

Belle squared her shoulders and walked resolutely past the hospital. Robert had made his choices, and now he must live with the consequences. She was done with the “what ifs” and the “if onlys”. She had a lot of life ahead of her, and she planned to live it to the fullest.

As soon as Belle turned the corner and the library came into view, she smiled--joy, and something dangerously close to love bubbling up within her. Standing there beside the library door, leaning casually against the wall was Graham, welcoming smile in place and a take-out cup of what she knew was her favorite Earl Gray tea in hand.

Yes, life was good. Belle wasn’t only going to survive what happened, she was going to thrive.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma grimaced, rubbing her temples and reaching for the aspirin. Life over the past six months had been wonderful. She’d woken up most mornings with a smile on her face.

Today was not one of those days.

She’d tossed and turned all night, first having trouble falling asleep, and then having disturbing dreams--dreams where they’d failed, where Rumplestiltskin had killed Killian and Henry, and she’d been powerless to stop it.

In the first few weeks after they’d defeated Rumple, the nightmares had been a constant thing, coming nearly every night. What had almost happened scared her more than she’d ever have imagined.

But gradually, the dreams had come less and less often, and now they were a rarity. It certainly helped that she had her True Love lying beside her every night, always there to hold her and comfort her when the dreams got too awful.

Unfortunately, _rarely_ did not mean _never_ , and last night’s dream was as intense as the ones she had in those first horrible nights.

This morning she had a headache, and a persistent heaviness and feeling of doom had settled over her, the remnants of her nightmare.

Henry rushed into her room, frowning and putting his hands on his hips when he saw her.

“Moooooom,” he said, drawing out the word, “you’re not even _dressed_ yet? Come on! We need to leave soon, or all the good spots on the beach will be taken!”

Emma groaned. She’d forgotten Killian and Henry had made plans for a family beach day today. Last thing she wanted to deal with today was the sun beating down on her, fighting with seagulls for her food, sand getting literally _everywhere_ , and obnoxious beach goers being--well-- _obnoxious_.

“Kid, how about just you and Killian go today?” she asked. “My head’s killing me, and I’m just not feeling it.”

“But you _have_ to come, Mom!” Henry said, his eyes going wide. “You _have_ to! If you don’t, you’ll ruin _everything_.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. Come to think about it, Killian and Henry had spent quite a lot of time with their heads together, whispering to each other in the last few days. Clearly they were up to something.

“What’s going on, Henry?” Emma asked, crossing her arms and giving him her sternest “mom” look. “The two of you have clearly been plotting something.”

“It’s just…” he started. “Ugh, Mom! I can’t….Killian! Mom says she doesn’t want to go to the beach today!”

Killian rushed into the room, wearing a frown identical to her son’s when he’d heard her protestations. ‘Swan you _have_ to! You’ll enjoy yourself; I promise!”

Emma sighed, massaging her temples again and hoping the aspirin kicked in soon. “Fine. I can see I’m not going to convince either of you. Just give me five minutes to change.”

An hour later, Emma found herself lying in her beach chair soaking up the sun as Killian lounged beside her and Henry worked industriously to build a sand castle. She had to admit, there were a lot worse things than beach day.

“Would you like me to work the knots out of your neck, love?” Killian asked, sending her a sympathetic look. “I know you had one of your dreams again last night and that always gives you a dreadful headache.”

She smiled at him, loving him for his thoughtfulness and his keen sense of observation. “I’ll never turn down a massage.”

She let her head droop as he began rubbing her neck and shoulders, working the tension from her until she felt languid, nearly boneless. She moaned in relief, and behind her he chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“You’d best be careful making those noises, love,” he growled against her skin. “We are after all in a public place. Your moans combined with that bathing attire you’ve chosen can lead a man’s thoughts to places not lawful to be witnessed by a beach full of families.”

Emma chuckled. “Like the bikini, do you?”

He nipped lightly at her neck. “Vixen. You know I do.”

She did; she very much did. She’d chosen a reasonably modest bikini, as bikini’s go--black with white polka dots with a halter top that left enough to the imagination that she wouldn’t scar or embarrass her son. Still, bikinis weren’t a thing back where (when?) Killian was from, and she’d thought his eyes would pop out of his head when he got his first sight of her swimwear this morning.

She rather liked rendering her old-fashioned boyfriend speechless. Maybe, if he played his cards right today, she’d even make it up to him later tonight when they could be alone.

“Is it time, yet, Killian?” Henry asked, interrupting their moment.

Probably for the best. They were, after all in public.

Killian chuckled, pulling away from her and scratching behind his ear. “Aye, lad,” he said. “I suppose so.”

Henry jumped up, pumping his fist in the air and jogging toward them. “Yes!”

Emma furrowed her brow, looking curiously from one of them to the other. “Is he ready for what?”

“Lunch!” Killian said quickly. Far too quickly.

“Okay, guys, seriously,” Emma said. “What is going on? You both have been acting super weird for the last several days.”

For a moment, Killian didn’t answer, merely pulling food--grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings from Granny’s--out of the picnic basket he’d brought. Her mouth watered at the enticing aroma, and she suddenly realized just how hungry she was.

“Patience Swan,” Killian said, looking aside, shuffling nervously. “All will be revealed in due course.”

Emma sighed and reached for an onion ring.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Killian said, lightly batting her hand away. “Not quite yet!”

“Okay, if you insist on getting in between me and my food, you’d better have a good reason, buddy,” Emma said, her voice dripping with mock sternness as she fought a valiant--although losing--battle to keep from smiling.

“He does!” Henry insisted. “Just _listen_ , Mom!”

Emma shook her head fondly at the two guys she loved the most. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“Swan,” Killian said, suddenly becoming serious, “as you’ve surely gleaned, there’s more to this beach picnic than merely the lad’s desire for a day at sea. Today marks the six month anniversary of our meeting, the six month anniversary of you releasing me from the book.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Has it really been that long?”

“Aye,” Killian said, smiling gently. “In some ways it feels like the blink of an eye, and in others, it feels like I’ve been with you and your boy all my life.”

Emma smiled. “That’s exactly what it feels like!”

“Anniversaries are a good time for one to step back and take stock of his life, of the choices he’s made in the past and his hopes and dreams for the future. Henry, if you would?”

Emma watched as Henry dug in the pocket of his swim trunks and pulled out a small black box.

_Was that--?_ Her heart began to pound and her stomach swooped delightfully as she began to understand what was happening.

“Emma Swan,” Killian said, “what my self-reflection has made me see is quite simple. I love you, and I love this family with everything within me. When I look into the future, most of my wishes are quite hazy and indistinct. One thing and one thing only stands out in absolute clarity. I want this life we’ve built for ourselves. I want it forever.”

“What are you saying?” Emma said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Emma,” he said, bending a knee before her and opening the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring, “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know this. I will always, always be at your side. Will you marry me?”

Emma couldn’t have stopped the happy tears if she wanted to. “You knew about this?” she asked, turning to her son rather than answering Killian’s question. “You knew about it, and you’re alright with it?”

Henry nodded vigorously. “Mom, not every guy’s gonna be like my dad. Not every guy’s just gonna leave us. Killian’s amazing! I can’t wait for him to be part of the family. Like for real!”

Emma’s heart turned over as she turned back toward Killian, kneeling beside him and taking his face in her palms. “Yes,” she said simply, before leaning in and kissing him.

For a day that had started out so miserably, this had turned into the single best day of her life. As Emma pulled back from the kiss, and the two of them stretched out their arms to invite Henry into a family group hug, the words of Killian’s poem, the poem that had started everything, came to mind.

_My love, how I love thee!_

_More than all the jewels in the realm._

_The End!_

_Notes:_

_\--Well, there we go! With that, my submission for the 2020 CS Supernatural Summer comes to a close with happy endings all around. (Well...except for Rumple, but I hardly find that tragic.) I’d like to thank all of you who have read, liked, subscribed, commented and flailed over this fic. I’m terrible about responding to feedback, but know I treasured each and every one of your reactions, and they are what motivated me to keep writing!_

_\--Once again, I’d like to thank @therealstartraveller776 and @searchingwardrobes. They’ve both provided so much help in making this fic the best it can be! Thanks ladies!_

_\--What’s next for me? Well, I still have a significant amount of last year’s CSSNS to finish. I’m hoping to start working on that much more frequently now that this story is over. Beyond that, I have an idea for a Halloween story: Emma gets a call from a number she doesn’t recognize. The man on the other end (Killian) leaves her a message. Curious, she looks him up...only to find out he died several weeks before. (This is kind of, sort of, based on a real life event in my life, if you can believe it, lol.) I also have an idea for an election day themed fic (Don’t worry; this will have absolutely NO current real politics in it. I have no desire to step in that minefield, even fictionally). Emma and Killian are running against each other for mayor of Storybrooke. Will their campaigning against each other tear them apart--or bring them together?_


End file.
